


A Gift Of Light

by Tales of Josan archivist (nocturnus)



Series: A gift of light series (by Josan) [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Order of the Phoenix, Romance, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-30 01:07:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 136,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10865874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturnus/pseuds/Tales%20of%20Josan%20archivist
Summary: Severus finds out he has a son who is a werewolf. While learning to love and respect each other; Severus will find a new place in the world.





	1. One by Josan

**Author's Note:**

> Archivist note:
> 
> This story was originally archived by Josan at Angelfire. She hasn’t updated there since 2003.  
> Later she migrate this fic to Tales_of_Josan blog at Live Journal. She hasn’t updated since 2008. As Lj administration announce they reserve the right to delete inactive blogs, I am merely putting Josan's fics onto AO3 so that they are safe from any issues on LJ.
> 
> Please note, I am merely putting her fics onto A03. I'm doing this for the purpose of preserving her fics. 
> 
> Josan’s notes from 2002:
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters etc. belong to JK Rowling. These words belong to Josan.  
> Author's Note/Foreword: The impetus of this "novel" requires some explanation.  
> To me, writing is a fun activity. It should also be something that makes me stretch from the last story that I've written.  
> When I found the SnapeFest site, I used it as an opportunity to experiment, not only with pairings, but with style. Some of which I fully acknowledge were not a success. But they were fun to write.  
> One of the things I rather like about this fandom is the variety of pairings. And the fact that J K Rowling is ambivalent enough about the background of most her characters that we as fanfic writers can play around with that to our hearts' content.  
> "SNAPE & SON" paired Severus Snape with, at the end, Remus Lupin.  
> But no sooner had I posted that story - and the requests for a sequel began - then I started wondering if there might not be a different road to be followed. Rather like Robert Frost's two roads diverging in the yellow wood.  
> This meant that the original story required some changes and additions - not to mention dealing with that pesky POV problem I have.  
> Which is why Part One will seem very familiar to those who have already read the original "SNAPE & SON".  
> I would like to thank Kai for her patience in keeping me focused on POV, for encouraging me throughout the writing of what became known as "The Monster", and for her insistence that I detail more information about the politics and this world of werewolves.  
> Oh, and for those of you who have been complaining there isn't enough sex in my stories, I think this one may please you.  
> One more note: this has been written in Canadian English, with a bow to British English.  
> Dedicated to Kai  
> Without whom this story  
> Would not have been what it is.  
> You were the best Christmas gift of all!

Part One

"Hillswick!"

Severus Snape's voice cut across the classroom like a knife.

A small boy with looked up from his cauldron and smiled at the Potions instructor.

The smile took Snape by surprise. As it did every time he had to call the boy to attention for one reason or another.

How could the Sorting Hat have thought someone so obviously Gryffindor should be placed in Slytherin, a House of sneers, scowls and sarcasm? He shook his head.

"Hillswick, are you humming again?"

The smile grew into a grin. "Sorry, Professor. I don't do it on purpose. It's just something I do when I'm enjoying what I'm doing."

There were groans from the first year Gryffindors and smirks from the Slytherin side of the classroom. Potions class was not something they enjoyed doing. Snape was certain that had it not been a compulsory course, his classroom would be empty. And he wouldn't be here, trying to deal with an on-coming headache.

The boy straightened. He looked around the room as though confused. "Well," he said, his voice slightly hesitant, "I'm enjoying what I'm learning."

"Try to do so with less musical accompaniment," snarled Snape.

He watched the boy nod, knowing full well that if it were like the last class, the boy would be humming again within minutes.

It was hard to chastise someone who actually found his classes enjoyable. It was hard to chastise someone who found life so filled with discovery. The child was small for his age, a good head shorter than his classmates. Fineboned with a natural elegance, dark hair and large grey eyes that never seemed to miss anything. He was interested in everything and anything.

Snape sighed. Only two weeks into the school year he had already had several discussions with Master Alexander Hillswick about his enthusiastic curiosity and why he should rein it in.

Sprout had been horrified when the boy had decided to see just what newly planted mandrake looked like, without wearing the appropriate earmuffs. Sinistra had been amused when the boy had returned - without anyone seeing him - to the telescopes after Astronomy class was over so that he could watch the stars move across the night sky. The Slytherin prefect had been less amused when, on doing his bed check, he had found one empty. McGonagall had shaken her head when, during his first Transfiguration class, the boy had indicated that he preferred to change his matchstick into a hair pin. He had all the needles he needed - his mother had packed a sewing kit into his trunk - but he could see that she could use an additional hair pin for herself.

"There's a delightful innocence to the boy," she'd said at the staff meeting where the first years were being discussed. "I hope Slytherin doesn't beat it out of him."

And all members of the staff who had the boy in their classes had turned to glare at Snape.

He watched the students clean up at the end of the class, the Hillswick boy humming to himself once more. The Gryffindors smiled at him as they walked by, the Slytherins shook their heads in disgust.

"He's going to give us a bad name," muttered one as he walked past Snape.

"He's so... cheery," said his partner, shuddering as though it was something that should never be associated with a Slytherin.

"Sir?"

At the door, one of the sixth years indicated that he had a note for the Potions instructor.

Snape took it with a scowl. What did Dumbledore want now?

`Severus,

If you could find the time to spare, I would appreciate your coming to my office. Password this week is `gingersnaps'.

Albus.'

Snape grunted. If he could find the time to spare. Polite but still an order. He was supposed to be working on a potion for Pomfrey in his free period this morning. He sighed and went to see what Albus wanted from him.

He grouched to himself all the way through the halls, barely noticing that students were trying hard to fade into the walls and woodwork as he passed by. At the spiral staircase that led to Dumbledore's office, he had to wait as Poppy Pomfrey and a woman, unknown to him, came down and started off in the direction of the Infirmary. The visitor was wearing a brilliantly red robe which caused Snape to take a second glance at her. Not a particularly tall woman though her face was ageless in spite of the white hair. She too was looking at him. She'd stopped, turned, and was examining him as though he were some foreign specimen that she was seeing for the first time.

He nodded his head sharply in her direction and was slightly taken aback when she returned the nod, with the slight rise of an eyebrow.

"Madam?"

The woman turned and went on with Poppy.

Snape shrugged and put her out of his mind as he went up the stairs.

The Headmaster was not alone. Sitting in a chair by the fire was a woman whose face was hidden behind a thick veil.

"Severus, I would like to introduce you to Alexander Hillswick's mother. Madam Hillswick, Severus Snape. He is not only Alexander's Potions instructor but his Head of House as well."

"Yes," said a soft voice, "I am well aware of Professor Snape's positions here at Hogwarts. It is one of the reasons my son is attending this wizard school and not the one in Scandinavia."

Snape bowed politely. "Madam."

Gloved hands rose to raise the veil. "Once, you called me by my name. Tell me, Severus Snape, do you remember my name?"

The face was thin, ill, but still showed signs of beauty. Large grey eyes in a small-boned, elegant face with blue-tinged lips. The woman was not in the first blush of youth. Though probably younger than she looked, thought Dumbledore as he turned his attention to his Potions instructor.

Snape's eyes narrowed and then he nodded. "Inga."

She smiled and Dumbledore knew where Alexander Hillswick had gotten his smile.

"You remember."

Snape didn't say anything; he just gave a slight nod.

"I'm so pleased." She turned to Dumbledore. "This makes everything so much easier."

"Does it, my dear? I'm delighted to hear that. But may I ask, what does it make so much easier?"

"Please, if I may be so bold, might Severus be invited to sit and might we perhaps have some tea? I fear this may take some time. I know that the two of you are quite busy, but it is very important."

"Of course, my dear. How remiss of me." Dumbledore smiled. "I don't often get to entertain a beautiful woman and it seems to have affected my manners. Severus, do sit down."

Dumbledore watched as she played with the cup of tea, not really drinking any. He thought it was more to have something to do with her hands.

"This is difficult," she finally said. "I shall be direct about the situation. Please bear with me."

Inga Hillswick smiled at the two men. "To begin with, I'm dying."

Snape stiffened in his chair but said nothing. He was watching her as though she were one of his cauldrons, thought Dumbledore: as though wondering what potion was going to be coming out of it.

"I'm sorry..."

She cut Dumbledore off with a gesture of her hand. "Please. I was very ill as a child and it affected my heart. I really should have died years ago, but I couldn't leave Alexander. I don't really want to leave him now, but my heart..." She gave a little shrug and that was it.

"I am telling you this because I wish to see to Alexander's future before I die." She turned her attention to Snape. Cocking her head slightly, she smiled her soft smile.

"Severus, Alexander is your son."

Dumbledore blinked.

Snape's eyebrow slowly rose high and Dumbledore braced himself for the slash of sarcasm which usually followed. Instead, the Potions instructor stared at the woman who was waiting for his reaction. It wasn't what the Headmaster had been expecting.

"You knew before I left. You thanked me for the gift I had given you."

Her smile was radiant. "You really do remember."

Snape nodded. "Yes, I remember."

"You're not questioning the fact that he's your son."

"You wouldn't say it if it weren't so."

"As easy as that." Her laugh was delighted. "To think I came prepared with all the proper documentation."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair and watched silently. For a surprise, this was equal to none.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She shook her head. "I was selfish. I knew that I wouldn't be long in his life and I wanted to make certain Alexander would remember me. I really didn't expect to live this long. Nor did the physician who cared for me. She didn't think I would survive the pregnancy. Then she was certain that the delivery would kill me. After that, she just shrugged and said that one day the end would come. My heart would be too worn out. As it has.

"And," she sighed, "there is something more I must tell you. About Alexander." She looked down at her hands and the expression on her face softened. "Alexander is a delight. He is intelligent, curious. Mischievous. Energetic." She looked up at Snape, half-smile slowly fading. "He is also a werewolf."

Oh my, thought the Headmaster. He wriggled uncomfortably in his chair.

Snape stared at her, mouth slightly agape.

"From my side of the family," she explained in a quiet voice. "The females carry the gene, the males are the ones usually affected."

Snape swallowed audibly. His voice was rough. "You...you never mentioned it. I would have remembered something like that."

Her smile was sad. "Four days and three nights. It wasn't something we had enough time to discuss. Such as," she gestured toward him, "the mark you bear on your left arm."

Dumbledore frowned as Snape went to reach for his arm and then stopped the gesture. If he had doubts about the woman's claim of Severus as father to her son, this put an end to them: Severus never bared his arm to anyone's view unless absolutely necessary.

She grew serious. "If this is something you cannot deal with... I know that here, on the mainland," she included Dumbledore with a slight gesture of her hand, "there is a different feeling about such things...you must tell me now. I will take him with me and find a different solution. I will not," here her voice grew strong, her focus completely on Severus, and Dumbledore caught a glimpse of the woman who had lived for her child, "leave Alexander in a place where he might be harmed. I know that Hogwarts is not fond of such children, though I understand that Alexander would not be the first of our kind to attend." She answered their unspoken question. "There are few secrets in the world we werewolves inhabit. I am aware that there will be difficulties, but I would want him to be under the care of his father. If this is too great a problem, I have a cousin who will take him, as he is. And though elderly, my cousin loves him dearly.

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes holding the once-more expressionless ones of the man in front of her, "Alexander is very easy to love. If you think you will not be able to do so, Severus, I will not leave him with you. I will not leave my son with someone who cannot love him."

Though he wanted to remain in his office, it was obvious that Inga Hillswick preferred to discuss the situation with Severus in private. Considering the woman's revelation as to her state of health, Dumbledore really couldn't ask them to move their conference elsewhere. With as polite a manner as he could summon, he left them alone.

He wandered through the halls of his school, passing students on their way to and from classes. He smiled and nodded at their greetings but didn't stay and chat with them. He found himself heading for the tower that overlooked the inner grounds, where Hooch was organizing the first years for a Flying lesson.

Alexander Hillswick was easy to locate. He was the shortest of the lot. And the first one up on his broom. Dumbledore nodded as he watched Hooch put the boy through a series of beginning exercises. It was obvious that the lad was no novice. Though Ministry rules indicated that children were not permitted to fly for fear that they would call Muggle attention to themselves, he knew that many of them had some experience with flying long before they arrived here. The lad had come from the Shetland Islands. Very few Muggles up there, all things considered. Lots of uninhabited space. No one around to notice a small boy performing acrobatics on a broomstick.

No one to notice that once a month, the child turned into a werewolf.

Dumbledore shook his head. Severus and werewolves. What was it about werewolves that drew Severus?

With a sigh, he removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. And just how was this going to affect Severus's ability to respond to any summons from Voldemort? Dumbledore shook his head and replaced his glasses. Might it not be better for all concerned if the boy didn't stay? The situation was difficult enough as was: how would this added element affect it?

He really couldn't get involved, not personally: after all, he had been the one to approve the boy's enrolment. Inga Hillswick had made it very clear that the final decision was in Severus's hands. And Dumbledore wasn't as certain of Severus's dedication to the cause these days as he had once been.

As for the boy himself, as Madam Hillswick had indicated, it wouldn't be the first time Hogwarts had had a werewolf in its student body. And, yes, it would be less of a problem than it had once been. Thanks to the Wolfsbane Potion, there would be no need of a Shrieking Shack. And Remus Lupin had made many friends among the students when he'd taught Defence Against the Dark Arts. Many of the students still spoke of him, almost with nostalgia. He could understand it: in the last ten years no instructor had taught the course two years in a row.

Still, Slytherin...

Damn! The boy was trying to stand on his broomstick. Where was Hooch? Shouldn't she be stopping this? If the boy broke his neck this soon after Severus had discovered his role in the boy's existence...might it not be after all for the better?

No. The boy was grinning too widely. He knew what he was doing. Dear Merlin! His potential as a Seeker! Slytherin could give Gryffindor a run for their money! And Potter, too.

Dumbledore tried to remember what Snape had been like on a broom. More than adequate, but certainly not elegant. The boy seemed to be very much his mother's child. He wondered what Hillswick had gotten from Severus.

The lesson was ending when he felt the presence of someone behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and found his Potions instructor, face with its usual hint of a sneer, watching the small boy flying figure eights.

"Will Hillswick be remaining with us?"

Snape's eyes followed the child. He was pale and he held his mouth firmly closed. After watching the child land and make a theatrical bow in acknowledgement of his classmates' cheers, he turned to face the Headmaster, meeting his eyes full on.

"Yes."

Then he walked away.

"I am thankful for the offer of the position. Of course, I shall be delighted to accept." Remus Lupin set his tea cup down on the small table by the chair in Dumbledore's office. He sat back. "Now then, Albus, what's really going on?"

The Headmaster looked innocently at his new instructor for Defence. "I thought I had explained that, Remus. Timmins had accepted to teach here because he hadn't heard from the Ministry about his application to work with Henderson on that special project of his. He was contacted this week and, well, it's a once in a lifetime opportunity. I couldn't hold him to his contract."

Remus Lupin scoffed. "Albus, it's not that I disbelieve you, it's just that I wonder what you're up to. Others may accept that `benevolent' act of yours, but you forget, I've seen you in action. You should never have asked me to accompany you on that little fact-finding venture of yours last winter. You do nothing without a purpose. Why am I here?"

Albus Dumbledore sat back and stared thoughtfully at the man watching him with such interest. He sighed. "I really shouldn't have taken you with me."

"It was..." Lupin grinned, "...educational. I never would have thought you could be so manipulative and...calculating."

The Headmaster's face lost its amiability: it had a hardness that Lupin knew few people had been privileged to see. "We have to win this time, Lupin. Once and for all."

"I know." Lupin allowed his voice to dip into bitterness. "Which is why I have agreed to return to Hogwarts, even though all here know me for what I am." Then he smiled, ending the moment. "Was it hard, I wonder, to convince Fudge to allow a werewolf back on staff?"

Though Dumbledore smiled back, Lupin understood that he had pushed the issue as far as he safely could. "The Minister for Magic and I have an understanding."

True, thought Lupin. That as long as Dumbledore was occupied with Hogwarts, he wouldn't be available to take over the Minister's office. Whatever Dumbledore wanted for Hogwarts, Fudge would allow as long as it didn't affect his position.

"Besides," Dumbledore's amiable smile was back, "the students have missed you."

Lupin shook head. "I doubt all of them have."

"No, but enough that it should make your taking over the classes fairly easy."

"Does Snape know that I'm returning?"

"No. No one does. I shall be announcing the change this evening at supper. That should give you time to unpack. You have your old rooms."

Lupin recognized dismissal when he heard it. As he stood to leave, Dumbledore tossed out, as though an afterthought, "I would like your opinion on the first years as soon as possible. Shall we say in a couple of days?"

Dumbledore arrived late at supper. He stood in front of his chair, waiting until he had everyone's attention, staff as well as student.

"I have an announcement to make. Professor Timmins has left us for a chance to fulfill a dream of his. In his place, we are very fortunate to have a professor who has taught here before." He turned and signalled to someone in the shadows to join the table.

"I believe most of you will remember Professor Lupin."

There was silence and then, from Gryffindor, the cheers began. Many from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff joined them. There was only muttering from Slytherin.

Snape's eyes were on his House the moment he had seen Lupin. He knew what their reaction would be.

"Bloody hell! The werewolf. Wait until my parents hear he's back."

"That's disgusting! I thought someone had put him down!"

He watched as the smile on Hillswick's face slowly faded, as he looked about him first in disbelief and then with a worried expression. He ducked his head and kept it that way for the rest of the meal, playing more with his food than eating it.

As soon as he could, Snape rose from the table.

"Severus, are you leaving us?" Dumbledore's tone was a little more authoritative than normal. Lupin's eyes on him, Snape merely tightened his lips and went striding out of the hall, robe billowing behind him.

"So, Remus, what do you think about the first years?"

Lupin smiled. "About the norm, I would suppose. Interested by the thought of dealing with Dark Arts. Some are worried."

"How are the Slytherins reacting to your teaching them?"

Lupin's smile lost some warmth. "As you would think. They're not pleased. Nor very co-operative."

"Not even Hillswick?"

Lupin cocked his head. Why that boy? he wondered. "He's very quiet. He watches me constantly when he thinks I won't notice. If I catch his eyes, he pretends to be taking notes. I find..."

"Yes, you find?"

Lupin shrugged. "I find it odd that he's in Slytherin. Strikes me as too nice for that House."

The Headmaster sighed. "Well, yes. The Hat sometimes works in mysterious ways."

"Albus, what is so important about the first years?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Ah, there's no hiding anything from you, is there? Yes, there is something important about one of the first years. He's a werewolf."

Lupin frowned, his tone slightly challenging. "I would think after your last experiment, you would have learnt not to accept my kind."

"We didn't know. We've only just found out. By the way, I trust you know that this information is confidential."

Lupin looked insulted, "Of course." Then he went on, "Full moon this week. That's cutting it close. I take it that he's why I'm here instead of out in the field."

Dumbledore nodded.

"There shouldn't be any problem. Unless Snape is refusing to make some of his potion for the boy?"

"No. No, that's not the problem."

"Which one is he, by the way?"

Dumbledore peered over the top of his glasses. "Can't you guess?"

Lupin scoffed. "We only look different at the full moon, Albus. If he's in first year, he's had some experience with passing for a normal wizard. You'll have to narrow it down for me."

"Slytherin." And folding his arms into his sleeves, sat patiently as Lupin went from stunned silence to uproarious laughter.

"Oh, dear," when he'd caught his breath, using the end of his sleeve to wipe his eyes, "does Snape know?"

"Oh, yes, Severus knows."

Lupin chuckled to himself as he mentally went through the names of the students. "Well, is it Norwell? No. Then Luton?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Hillswick."

That stopped Lupin. "Oh, dear. The nice Slytherin. They'll make his life a misery if they find out. I'm surprised that Snape hasn't screamed blue murder about getting him out of his House."

"Remus, Alexander Hillswick is Severus's son."

Lupin looked at Dumbledore as though expecting to be told it was all a joke. He slowly shook his head. "But... How..."

Dumbledore's expression bordered on disbelief. "I sincerely hope that I really don't have to explain how to you, Remus, not at your age."

"But... The boy doesn't remotely resemble Snape. Are you sure this isn't someone's idea of a joke?"

"Hillswick takes after his mother in his looks. He's the result of a short...affair Severus had with the woman some twelve years ago. He only learnt of the boy's existence last week. At the same time that we learnt the boy's mother is a Shetland Islands Werewolf."

"Genetic, then, not made."

"The boy's mother is dying and she thought it was time that Severus should know his child."

"But a werewolf! We all know how Snape feels about werewolves. How is he handling the situation? Damn, talk about your chickens coming home to roost."

"I have no idea how Severus is dealing with all this. He's not one to reveal his inner emotions at the best of times."

"So, you want me here to keep an eye on the boy, to see that Snape doesn't abuse him."

Dumbledore lost his amiable Headmaster's face and his voice had a cold edge to it. "The boy is quite safe with Severus. In spite of what people think and say of him, Severus has never physically harmed a student."

Lupin was ready to challenge that on the grounds that abuse could be other than physical. The expression on Dumbledore's face made him keep that to himself.

"Severus has assumed responsibility for his son and he will do his best by the boy. The reason you are here has to do with Voldemort. Snape is still a Death Eater and as such must be available to answer any summons from his Dark Lord. Voldemort is becoming more active. There will be times when Severus will not be here and those may coincide with the full moon. It is at those times when you will be required. Much as you dislike each other, I know, as does Severus, that you would never punish an innocent child for the sins of his father. Moreover, the boy needs protection. Should Voldemort or any of his people discover what Hillswick is to Snape..."

"The boy's as good as dead. Or begging to be." Lupin nodded. "Does he know to keep quiet about their relationship? There are so many ears in Slytherin."

"The boy has no idea that Severus is his father. We thought it better for his safety that he not know."

Lupin stood at the door of the Potions classroom, watching his old enemy, Severus Snape, correcting essays. He shook his head. How the hell could something like Snape be responsible for the delightful child who was Alexander Hillswick? He'd taken a hard look at the child the next time he had had the class; there was nothing in the boy that reminded him of the dour man sitting at the desk.

He must have made a noise of some kind because Snape looked up from his work. They stared at each other, then Snape rolled up the scroll he had been correcting and slowly stood. "You've come for the potion." He walked into the small alcove off the front of the classroom and checked one of the cauldrons gently steaming. With a ladle, he filled a pewter goblet, turned to bring it to Lupin and nearly bumped into him, not having heard him approach.

Lupin reached out to steady Snape but the man quickly took a step back. Lupin let his hands drop to his sides.

"We need to talk."

Snape stared at the goblet. "No, we don't. I have prepared the potion that...you need. It will be ready at this time every month that you are here. It should be more palatable as it will be freshly made, not something that you've had to reheat." He handed the goblet to Lupin who didn't reach for it.

Snape looked up.

Lupin turned and, wand in hand, cast a privacy spell on the room. Then, as an extra precaution, he cast a couple of wards. Whatever conversation passed would be only between them, even if someone had a listening spell on the room.

Lupin saw the anger begin in Snape's eyes and hurried. "The boy will require a much lesser dose. I've been sharing some of the potion you send - you always prepare so much - with a friend. She's about a stone and a half less in weight than I, and smaller-boned. We've worked out that she takes half the amount that I do. That should help you calculate Alexander's potion."

"Thank you," sneered Snape. "I had already worked that out."

Lupin continued. "Tell him that he'll feel a little disoriented at first. He'll be used to feeling the beast..."

Snape winced.

"...but that he'll be himself in a couple of...shakes of a tail."

Snape's lips whitened. Lupin sighed: he should have guessed that Snape would not find anything humourous in the situation.

Lupin took the goblet out of his hands and, with a grimace, drank it down. "Warn him about the taste. It's worse than hippogriff piss."

As he turned to leave the room, Lupin stopped, his back to the man. "Snape, have you ever seen anyone Change?"

The word was barely audible. "No."

Lupin waited but there wasn't anything more. "Where will the boy be?"

There was a long pause. Lupin had taken a step towards the door when Snape responded. "In my rooms. I will ward them for privacy and silence."

Lupin nodded again. With a wave of his wand, he removed the wards and spells he had set, and left.

Snape looked at the boy sitting on his couch, eyes brightly investigating the room. Hillswick probably already knew from school gossip that students were never invited into his private quarters. Yet his invitation to join the Head of his House hadn't come as a complete surprise to the boy.

"You know what I am," he said while he watched Snape set the wards and spells.

Snape finished the last spell and turned to face the child. "There is a potion I've made up for you. You have to drink it now."

"What will it do?" With no more than that, the boy accepted the goblet and examined its contents with curiosity.

"It will allow you to retain your humanity in wolf form."

"Really?" The boy smiled. "Will I remember everything I do while I'm a cub?"

Snape hesitated and then sat down in the chair he had placed by the couch for the purpose of being near should he be needed. "I have been told to warn you about the taste. I have it on authority that it tastes like hippogriff piss."

The boy took a sip and made a face. "Is Professor Lupin the authority?" He took a deep breath and forced himself to finish the contents. "Yeck!"

Snape took the goblet and checked that Hillswick had indeed ingested all the potion. He set it on the table by his chair as he watched the boy make faces as he tried to rid his mouth of the taste.

"I...I'll work on that."

The boy nodded. "Maybe some liquorice would help."

Snape sat back in the chair, eyes never leaving the boy. "It would require something that strong?"

Hillswick smiled. "Well, I don't know what hippogriff piss tastes like, but it must be vile stuff." He looked around the room. "Is this where I'm going to Change?"

"Yes. The Headmaster and I thought it would be safer for you to do so here."

The boy sighed. "Mor warned me that not everybody liked werewolves. I guess she never thought that some people really, really hate us. Professor Snape, why do people hate us?"

Snape swallowed hard. The boy was seriously expecting him to answer. How could he explain the fear werewolves generated?

"Have you never encountered any negativity at home, Hillswick?"

The boy shook his head. "Back in the Village, everyone is like us. And we didn't usually meet strangers while we were out."

"Out?"

"Yes. After I Change, Mor and I go for walk. We live near the ocean and we go down to the beach. I like to chase the crabs and to go swimming. Mor tosses sticks out into the water for me to bring back."

Snape was surprised. "Your mother stayed with you?"

Hillswick nodded. He stood up and began removing his clothes. "I'm too young to go off on my own."

"But she was safe with you?"

The boy looked confused. "Yes. Why wouldn't she be safe with me?"

"Did she...Change?"

"No. Oh, she's not a werewolf. She's just the mother of one. Me. Freya's been coming with us, too, this past year."

Snape made a mental note to ask Lupin about that the next time they could safely speak.

"Are we going to do anything?"

Snape looked at the boy who was now completely naked and not at all selfconscious about the fact. He tried not to wonder how someone this slim and fragile-looking could survive Changing monthly. "Do? What should we do?"

The boy shrugged. "Mor says that I have far too much energy when I'm a cub. That I have to run it off. That's why we go to the beach."

Snape nodded, trying to figure out a safe place to take the...child running.

"OH!"

Snape jerked forward then stopped himself. The Change was beginning and there was nothing more he could do for the child. Trusting in the efficacy of his potion, he sat back, his hands whitely clutching the arms of his chair, and tried to find the analytical self who had watched Muggles being tortured for his experiments

He couldn't find the Death Eater in him.

He hated it. He hated seeing the boy with a small, delicate frame change into a lumbering, awkward young cub. The sounds the child made ripped him apart. Damn! He was going to work on a potion for that, he promised himself. And not just because the child was his...son. He refused to allow himself to look away, to close his eyes, to think of anything other than the child who had now transformed into a long-limbed cub, panting on the floor of his private quarters.

He waited until the sounds lessened then, hand on the wand still in his pocket - after all, he had no experience with this particular wolf - he slowly slipped off his chair to kneel by the boy's side.

The cub's eyes opened and, instead of his mother's grey, they were yellowish brown. Snape sat back on his heels as the cub awkwardly found its feet. It shook its head as though clearing it and then, with a soft yelp, it leaned over and licked Snape's face.

Surprised, Snape leaned back too far and ended up on his arse on the floor. The cub jumped up and yelped more loudly. It quickly ran about, inspecting the room, sniffing corners and looking excitedly around. It came back and ran circles around the Potions Master still sitting on the floor then poked its nose into Snape's robe.

For some reason, that reassured Snape and he released his hold on his wand. "Enough of that. Being in cub form does not permit you to be impolite, or to take familiarities, er...Hillswick."

Obviously, it understood. The cub sat on its haunches and, tongue hanging out, looked as though it was awaiting instructions.

Snape's private quarters had a hidden door that led into a small hallway and to another door that opened onto the grounds furthest from most activity, the side closest to the Forbidden Forest. He usually used it as a means of leaving and returning to the school without being seen whenever he was summoned.

Snape thought a moment and then addressed the cub. "If we go out, you must understand that there can be no running away. We are on the far side of Hogwarts, and should be safe from any prying eyes. Still, that does not mean that we do not take precautions. You will stay by me. Understood?"

The cub nodded and jumped to its feet.

With a sigh, Snape got to his feet and, wand at the ready should he need to stupify the cub for its own safety - he had no idea how it would behave out of doors - he unwarded the hidden door and led the way out.

An adult werewolf was waiting for them in the small garden off the doorway.

The cub stilled then actually huddled close to Snape's legs. Snape's free hand dropped onto the cub's head, wand ready to deal with the adult. "Lupin?"

The wolf nodded and slowly stretched out its front feet in a kind of salute. The cub cautiously approached. Snape held his breath while the two smelled each other.

"I thought," said Snape, "that we would stay here for this time. Until the...Hillswick gets used to the effects of the potion."

Lupin nodded his agreement. He growled to the cub who answered with an excited but very soft yelp. Snape used his wand to cast first a silencing spell then an obscuring one on the grounds, much to the wolf's approval. Together he and the cub inspected every inch of ground, marked every tree and shrub in the vicinity and chased each other until the adult finally dropped to the grass, panting.

Snape remembered what the boy had said about sticks and found a length of dead branch which he began tossing into the air. The cub was delighted with this new game. Lupin shook his head and rolled onto his back, four legs stretched out, and napped in the safety of the spelled garden until the quiet woke him.

Snape and the cub were watching each other, as if unsure what to do now that the stick lay chewed up and limp at Snape's feet. And though spelled and warded, there was only so much they could do in the small space of the garden. And Lupin needed his sleep: he had no intentions of allowing anyone to comment on his absence from classes. With the Wolfsbane, if he got enough sleep, he could manage normal activity the next day.

He went up to the door, hoping Snape would understand. Which he seemed to: he called the cub to the door.

Lupin was certain that he was at the end of Snape's tolerance of his presence, so it was a surprise when Snape spoke stiffly over the wolf's head, "You may as well come with us and stay until you've Changed. It will be easier for you to make your way back to your rooms in human form."

Lupin wanted to explain that he would probably be too exhausted to do so immediately after the Change - Changes back into human were always more draining than Changes into wolf - but Snape wasn't paying attention to him. And since he had no way of indicating that kind of information, he followed the man and the cub into Snape's quarters, his first such visit.

The cub was still active and went around the rooms - for Snape allowed the cub to enter his bedchamber as well - inspecting and sniffing to his delight. Lupin found a warm spot by the fireplace and claiming a small circular space for himself, lay down, nose on paws and went to sleep.

The sense of Change woke him.

Knowing that Snape was new at this and not knowing if the boy had ever seen someone else Change, Lupin tried to silence his cries of pain. It was bad enough the boy couldn't.

Lupin lay panting on the floor when he felt a blanket drape over him. He'd sleep only a few minutes, he told himself, then he'd leave.

It was just after dawn when he did wake. He was alone in the room, still on the floor. With a groan for his aching body, he got to his feet and found that someone - Snape? It had to be, these were his rooms - had placed a robe on the chair nearest him. He put it on, noting that it was long enough to hide the fact that he was barefoot.

Before he left, he wanted to know where the boy was. Snape's bedroom door was open, the room lit only by the light coming from the bathroom that was off to one side.

Lupin took a quick glance around and froze. The boy was sleeping in the big bed that took up most of the space.

Snape, his back to the door, face hidden in shadows, was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand gently stroking the hair from the boy's face.

Inga Hillswick died eight days later.

Snape made arrangements with Dumbledore for him to take over his classes while he took Alexander back to the Shetland Islands and his mother's funeral.

Holding the too-quiet boy against him, he apparated near the house where the child had been born. It was a small house, nothing grand like the one he had been born to, but it had a sense of warmth and love about it that even he could feel. The woman who greeted them, hugging the boy tightly to her, wore a red robe.

Freya Hillswick, Inga's cousin and physician, said nothing much to Snape but she watched him their entire stay with sharp blue eyes that never seemed to miss a thing.

The boy was unnaturally quiet and accepted the hugs and condolences of the gathering of friends and relatives with whispered a "Thank you."

Snape wondered if the boy was handling this all too well.

They were there for three days, for the reading of the will which indicated that all of Inga Hillswick's property and moneys - apart from a generous quarterly allowance - were to held in trust for the boy Alexander until he was eighteen years of age. She had left instructions that until then the education and care of the boy were in the hands of Severus Snape, his Head of House, whom she trusted would do his best for her son. Nowhere was the paternity of the boy indicated.

That last day, Alexander looked around his mother's room and packed things that he didn't want touched or damaged or destroyed. Freya Hillswick, who had indicated to Alexander in front of Snape - he didn't doubt that she had also done it out of his hearing - that she was still more than willing to keep him if he wanted, would be remaining in the house, keeping it safe for him, she'd said, in accordance with a clause in Inga Hillswick's will.

Alexander had shaken his head. "Mor wanted me to go to Hogwarts and I like it there, Freya. Honestly, I do."

After a silent lunch, Alexander asked Snape, "Could we go say goodbye to the beach?"

Snape followed the boy as he led the way down the path to the stoney beach where the cub had played with its mother.

"Yes," Lupin had explained when Snape had finally had been able to ask him about what the boy had told him, "she would be safe with him. It's slightly different for genetic werewolves. He would sense her werewolfness even if she only carries the gene. And he's still much of a cub. He would sense his need for her."

The boy pointed out a large smooth stone on a cleared part of the beach. "That's where she'd sit and throw sticks for me. I knew she wasn't well. She was often short of breath if we walked too far or too quickly. She slept the days of my Changes so she could be with me. She told me that she was sending me away because it was time for me to move into a new world. A world she wouldn't be in but that she's be with me forever in my heart."

Eyes filled with tears, the boy looked up at Snape. "Is it all right if I cry here? I didn't want to do it at the house. There are too many people around. And it would only upset Freya."

Snape nodded. "Shall we sit on her rock?"

Snape wasn't certain if he was imposing but he sat next to the boy. At first, he just looked at the choppy sea and ignored the boy's sobs, trying to provide him with a sense of privacy. But when he began shaking from the force of them, Snape reached over and pulled the boy onto his lap, holding him awkwardly against his chest. He had no words to offer the boy, but eventually he awkwardly patted his shoulder and let him rid himself of tears.

Afterwards, the boy lay limply in his arms, making no effort to move away. He blew his nose on the handkerchief Snape found for him, wiped his face and then with a loud, tired sigh, he let himself rest once more against Snape.

They sat that way for a long time, until the sun showed signs of setting. Nightfall came early this far north.

"Are you going to keep me?"

Snape looked down at the white-faced child. "Yes."

"Because you're my father."

Snape gasped. He tilted the boy's face up. Reddened grey eyes met his. "How long have you known?"

The boy shrugged. "From before beginning of term. Mor and Freya, they thought I was in bed."

"You never said anything?"

The boy shook his head.

"Why?"

"I was afraid that you might find out. That if you knew I knew, you might want to take me away. I didn't want to leave Mor." He paused as he caught his breath. "I didn't know she was this ill."

Snape watched the sun grow darker in colour. "I didn't know that you even existed until your mother came to Hogwarts to tell me."

The boy was silent for some time. "Did that make you angry? That she hadn't told you?"

Snape shook his head. "No. Her reasons were the same as yours."

Alexander straightened so he could see Snape's face. "Are you happy to have a son?"

Snape raised his hand as if to touch the child then allowed it to drop beside him. "I don't know."

"Is it because I'm a werewolf? I know from what the others have said in the Common Room that you don't like...us."

Snape watched his child's face. "Once, I was nearly killed by a werewolf. I wasn't expecting to see one and so it was doubly terrifying."

He could see the boy processing that information. "Is that why people hate us, because we frighten them?"

Snape nodded. "And unless a werewolf has taken the Wolfsbane Potion, it is like a maddened animal, dangerous to all those in human form...well, to those humans without werewolf blood in them."

"How dangerous?"

Snape placed his hand on the boy's back. "Killing dangerous."

The boy looked out over the shadowed sea. "I understand." He kept his back to Snape though the man could see the child brace himself. "Do you hate me?"

Snape carefully placed his arms around the boy, drawing him into his warmth. With the darkening had come the cold. "No, Alexander. I do not hate you. I will not lie to you. I have very little experience with family. I'm not certain how I should behave with you. For many reasons I can't go into, it cannot be known that you are my son. It would put your life in very grave danger for one thing. And I would have to send you away if it became known what you are to me."

The boy leaned back, his head resting against Severus's shoulder. "Would it be easier for you if I wasn't at Hogwarts?"

Snape wrapped his arms more tightly around the boy. "No. Now that I know about you, I find that I would like to know you. Would you feel safer if you weren't at Hogwarts?"

The boy shook his head.

"It might be easier for you if you weren't in my House. We could ask the Headmaster to move you into one of the others."

The boy turned his head to watch his father's face. He shook his head. "I wouldn't see you as much if that happened. And I wouldn't be able to use your rooms for Changing then if I were in another House, would I, Professor Snape?"

Snape nodded. "All right then. Slytherin it is. Master Hillswick."

And he wondered at the lightening of something tight within him.

"We need a reason for Hillswick's not being in his bed once a month," said Lupin, taking tea with Dumbledore and Snape. "I thought, considering the number of hidden passages in the school, there must be one from or near the Infirmary to the vicinity of Snape's rooms. We could let it be known that the boy has an illness of some kind that requires medication that Poppy needs to supervise. It could explain his size."

"There is nothing wrong with his size," muttered Snape, ignoring the cup that had been served him.

"That way," continued Lupin, "it would appear that he's spending the night in the Infirmary and coming back to his dormitory from there. And if it happens that he needs more sleep after a Change, he'll be able to have it in security."

"That would mean telling Pomfrey," Snape objected.

Lupin cocked his head. "Poppy knew about me. There were times I injured myself and needed medical care. No one ever heard of my being a werewolf from her."

Snape kept a careful eye on his son during their first class together after their return. The boy's eyes were still red and he wondered if it had been too soon for the child to pick up his regular schedule.

The Gryffindors surprised him. One of the little witches waited until everyone was at his or her place then stepped up to Alexander before Snape could begin the class.

"Alexander."

The whole class stilled, all eyes on the two.

Alexander looked up from unpacking his satchel.

"Alexander, we just wanted you to know how sorry we all are."

And she reached out and patted his arm, a little awkwardly.

Snape quickly looked around the classroom. All the Gryffindors were nodding or looking very sympathetic. One or two were biting their lower lips.

"Thank you." Alexander's voice was low, with a little tremble, but he managed a wobbly smile at all of them.

The Slytherins about him nodded.

Afraid that things were getting far too emotional for him to handle, Snape cleared his throat loudly. With his usual sarcasm, he growled, "Today we are going to attempt a potion which should, by all rights, not result in an explosion. Let us try hard to accomplish that."

The Gryffindors frowned at him, the Slytherins began wondering just how to produce this explosion, and Alexander managed a less wobbly smile of gratitude in his direction.

The next Change was as disturbing for Snape as the first had been.

Alexander joined him in his rooms and drank his Wolfsbane. They talked quietly about his classes, what he liked, what he found difficult. When Alexander felt the Sense of Change on him, he quickly disrobed and Snape folded each article of clothing neatly after the boy removed it.

When the Change began, Snape felt the overwhelming urge to hold his child as if by doing so he could absorb his pain. He knew that wasn't possible, so he sat, hands tightly clenching the arms of his chair, hurting along with the boy becoming wolf.

Lupin was waiting for them in the garden and, though the cub was pleased to see him, he was far less energetic. Snape knew from the reports of his prefect that the child was still mourning the loss of his mother.

When the rain began, it was an excuse to return to his quarters. Lupin was obviously surprised to be included. Probably as surprised as Snape was to make the offer.

Once more, Lupin made himself comfortable on the rug in front of the fire and slept. In the few very short conversations they'd had, Snape had learnt that Changes for made wolves were harder on them physically than those of genetic werewolves. That was why the morning after a Change, Alexander was quite capable of attending classes while Lupin needed a longer recovery time. Ideally. But now that his body was more used to the Wolfsbane, Lupin had informed Snape, if he got enough sleep as a wolf, he could take his classes in the morning. Still, Snape noticed that, now and then, Lupin would wake and he always checked on the cub.

Hillswick - he couldn't bring himself to think of the cub as Alexander - had joined him on the couch and lay, head on Snape's lap, as Snape quietly read to him from `Hogwarts, a History'. When the cub dropped into sleep, Snape sat and just watched him until the Sense of Change was upon the werewolves. Snape helped the cub into his bedchamber, allowing Lupin his own privacy to Change.

Once it was over and Alexander had gone back to sleep, Snape went out to check on Lupin. The man lay panting on the floor, sweaty from the efforts his body had undergone. Rather than hurry him out, Snape helped him to the couch and covered him with a blanket as the exhausted man dropped into sleep. He placed his returned robe on the arm of the couch closest to Lupin's head, then went back to his bedchamber. As the previous time, he knew Lupin would let himself out when he recovered.

Alexander lay on his bed, lightly covered with Snape's robe. Snape rummaged around in his wardrobe for one of his old, softly worn shirts. With cautious movements, afraid to wake the child, he got Alexander into it, buttoned it up and then carefully pulled the bedclothes from under the boy and then around him.

It was only a few hours away from the time the school would wake and his sleepless night made him yawn widely.

Snape stood up, undressed, carefully hanging up his clothing, then put on his nightshirt. He went to the other side of the bed, and, without trying to rationalize, even to think about what he was doing, he slipped into the bed, under the sheets and, hesitantly, put his arms around his child.

In the middle of November, Snape heard a sound that he had wondered if he'd ever hear again.

The first years were working on a potion for eradicating scorch marks when a slight humming could be heard. One by one, the students in the room stopped doing what they were doing and looked at the boy who was humming happily to himself as he added agrimony to his cauldron.

Snape was amazed to see Gryffindors smile at Slytherins who smiled back. Then one by one, they turned to glare at him, almost daring him to say something.

He didn't. He couldn't: his throat was suddenly too tight for any sound. He turned his back to the class and pretended he hadn't heard.

"Did you hear?" Ron Weasley growled.

Browsing through the library stacks for some reference material, Lupin stilled and eavesdropped.

"Now what?" Granger seemed preoccupied. But then she always did these days. N.E.W.T.s this year and she was already into a study schedule.

"The Greasy Git strikes again." Weasley's dislike of Snape ran through his words.

"What this time?" Even though these three knew that Snape was on their side, their dislike of the man was not something they bothered to hide. Not even Potter.

"You know Hillswick, the Hat's Mistake?"

"Yes, what about Hillswick?" Granger was interested.

"Snape's given him a week of detention."

"What!" Two horrified voices.

"Yeah, all because the kid hums while he's working in the Git's classes. Snape says it's distracting everyone and he's going to learn to stop his `silly noise'."

Weasley did an impressive Snape at his most disdainful.

"Why can't he leave the kid alone?" Potter growled. "Damn, it's not like he asked to be sorted into Slytherin."

"I think we should organize a petition," Granger, of course, "and demand that the Headmaster remove him from Slytherin. At least put him into Ravenclaw or somewhere he won't be abused like that."

Lupin quietly made his way out of the library. Trust Snape to find a way of spending time with his...with Hillswick and still manage to piss Gryffindors off.

At Snape's almost reluctant suggestion, Lupin now kept a change of clothing in Snape's rooms.

And much to Lupin's surprise, at the next full moon which occurred during a cold and heavy rain, Snape indicated that Lupin should also find his way from the Infirmary with the boy in order to Change in the privacy of Snape's quarters.

And once Changed, Lupin was astonished to find that Snape had gone shopping in Hogsmeade. He cleared part of his sitting room, took a large ball from a bag and tossed it to the cub. And there was a rope thing that allowed both wolves to play a sort of tug-of-war. And then, when the cub had dealt with its initial burst of energy, Snape settled on the couch with the cub's head on his lap and read...

Lupin was still chuckling to himself over that the next day. Snape had gone out and purchased the entire collection of the `William, the Terror of Mistleguard School of Wizards and Witches'. Books which were supposed to be such a bad influence on students, giving them ideas that could only end in detention or worse, that they were usually confiscated by the staff. Books, of course, which the younger students at Hogwarts smuggled in and read furtively.

Now and then, Dumbledore would inquire as to how Snape and the boy were getting along. Lupin found that he didn't like the implication that he should be spying on the two of them.

"Ask him yourself, Headmaster."

Dumbledore looked over the top of his glasses, his jovial Headmaster persona slipping slightly. "I'm asking you, Professor Lupin."

Lupin shrugged. "I've also concluded, as I'm sure you must remember telling me, that Snape hides his personal feelings well. As far as I can tell, there has been no physical abuse of the boy."

What went on during their monthly gatherings was no business of anyone, thought Lupin.

Christmas holidays arrived. Hillswick actually received several invitations from house-mates to join their families for the holidays. The boy was popular with his year and the fact that his mother had died had touched many of them.

Snape allowed himself to be the villain once more and indicated that, as the boy's `guardian', he had other plans for the holidays.

Lupin heard several disparaging remarks from some of the other Houses, including a Head of House, about the highhanded manner in which Snape was making decisions about the boy.

To everyone's surprise - most especially Dumbledore - Snape and Hillswick simply disappeared for most of the holidays. No one knew where they had gone. The Headmaster was not pleased.

They returned two days before the start of classes. Snape only responded to inquiries as to their whereabouts with that disdainful eyebrow of his. Dumbledore immediately interviewed the boy - in Lupin's presence, at Lupin's insistence.

"We went home." Hillswick was surprised by their reaction. "Well, it was Solstice."

"Why did you go there?" From behind his desk, Dumbledore rested his chin on his templed hands.

"Because Professor Snape asked me what I wanted to do for the holidays and I told him I wanted to go home. So he took me home. He has the right, you know. My mother did make him my guardian."

"Yes, of course," said Dumbledore, his tone conciliatory. "It's just that we didn't know where you'd gone. We were worried about you."

The boy shook his head, not understanding the concern. "It's Solstice, where else would we go?"

Lupin was not present for the interview between the Headmaster and Snape, though he made certain to be near the entrance to Dumbledore's quarters when Snape came down. Tight-lipped and white with constrained anger.

He cautiously knocked on the door to Snape's quarters that evening. The door was yanked open and a still angry Snape filled the doorway.

"What the bloody hell do you want?"

Lupin held up a bottle of brandy, the kind that he'd noticed on the sideboard in the sitting room. "I come bearing gifts."

Snape looked ready to growl. There were times, thought Lupin, that of the two of them, Snape was the one with a personality far better suited to being a werewolf.

With a sigh, Snape stepped back and allowed Lupin in. Unlike some of the other rooms belonging to staff members, there was no sign of the festive season in these. Lupin found two glasses, opened the brandy and poured out a decent portion for Snape. Then he took a small, gaily-wrapped package from his pocket and placed it on the sideboard. "For Alexander. It's a book I quite enjoyed when I was his age."

Snape took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Thank you. I'll see that he gets it as soon as I can."

Lupin sat on the couch and watched as Snape sipped at the brandy. He looked tired.

"Rough time? Did Alexander find it hard to go home with his mother not there?"

"Gathering information for our beloved Headmaster?"

Lupin wondered at the tone. More than disdain, almost a hatred.

"No. I've made it fairly clear to Albus that any information he wants as to this situation, he will have to get from you. I'm just asking because you look as though your time away was not all that restful."

Snape dropped his head back onto the chair. "Solstice day was hard. He barely spoke. The weather wasn't too bad so we walked a lot. He showed me his favourite spots. I began wishing I hadn't taken him home. I really have no idea how to deal with such losses."

Lupin nodded. Yes, he didn't think that Snape was all that good with emotions other than anger. "If it's any consolation, I think it was the right thing to do for the boy. His eyes are more peaceful than they've been since he returned from the funeral."

"His eyes?"

Lupin nodded. "Wolf eyes are very revealing, especially to another wolf."

Snape thought a bit then nodded. "Thank you."

"I take it that Dumbledore doesn't see it that way."

Snape looked up from his glass and then tossed back its contents. Lupin thought it was his way of indicating that the conversation was over. Instead, Snape got up, fetched the bottle of brandy from the sideboard and refilled both their glasses.

"Our beloved Headmaster was worried in case there should be a call from the Dark Lord. I explained to him that no matter where I was, should Voldemort decide to hold a Christmas council, the mark would so indicate. Whether I apparate to the summoned location from Hogsmeade or from some other site, it would make no difference to the Master. That I would have done so as soon as I had seen to Alexander's safety. The Headmaster was very particular in pointing out that, had I been summoned and had I been here at Hogwarts, there would have been no need to `waste time' seeing to my son's security."

Snape glared at Lupin. "I assume from your lack of reaction that you are fully aware Alexander is my son."

Lupin hesitated, then nodded. "Albus told me when he called me in."

"You must have laughed your head off when you heard."

Lupin shrugged, not wanting to go into that. "He called me in as extra security for the boy."

"He called you in in case I couldn't handle the fact that I had produced a werewolf son."

Lupin cocked his head. "Well, Snape, you're not exactly known for your love of our kind." He relented at Snape's wince. "You may be relieved to know that Albus indicated he didn't fear for the boy's safety with you. That I was here in case you are summoned during the full moon. If such a situation arises, I am to keep an eye on the boy."

"Yes, of course." Snape's habitual sarcasm was back. "Nothing must interfere with the Headmaster's acquisition of information."

Lupin hesitated. "Snape, do you want Voldemort to win?"

Snape sighed heavily. "No, I do not. Not that I expect to be believed. Once a Death Eater, and all that."

Lupin said nothing. Hard to refute what he himself thought. Less so than he once had, he was surprised to find.

"No, it's just that Dumbledore is prepared to pay any price for his information, no matter the consequences. No matter who gets hurt in his quest."

Lupin, who had seen some of that happen when he had accompanied the Headmaster, found he had nothing to say in Dumbledore's defence.

The summons came in February.

Snape alerted Dumbledore and then held a hurried yet private meeting in his quarters with Lupin. "The potion is ready. You'll have to reheat it. I suggest you stay in my rooms. The toys are in the box under the small table."

"Full moon is in two days. Do you really expect to be gone that long?"

Snape shrugged, looking around the room, unconsciously rubbing his left arm. "It's been months since the last summons. It all depends on his mood and the information he gets."

He went over to the sideboard and opened a drawer from which he took out a thick envelope. He handed it to Lupin. "My last will and testament."

"What!"

"In case I don't come back. I've left everything to Alexander and I've taken the liberty of naming you his guardian, in conjunction with Freya Hillswick. If you yourself know of someone who is one of you and who would take good care of the boy should anything in turn happen to you, please add that to the last sheet. I don't want Dumbledore having anything to do with him. Is that understood?"

Lupin had a dozen questions he wanted answered but only nodded, taking the papers from Snape. "Does Alexander know that you're going away for a few days?"

"In a way. I've told him that I may sometimes not be here in the school. At those times, he is to go to you with any problems. I'm sorry. I have to leave now. I still have to walk to the extent of the wards in order to apparate." At the door, Snape hesitated. "If anything happens to me, tell Alexander that I..."

"Yes, I will. Severus, take care."

But Snape was gone.

When he hadn't returned in four days, Lupin noticed that Dumbledore was having a hard time hiding his worry. By the sixth, he seemed resigned.

Alexander Hillswick was not in a good mood.

He found that no one seemed to want to answer his questions as to the whereabouts of the man he still pretended was only his Potions instructor. Professor Dumbledore had taken over their Potions classes, but though the other students seemed happy about that situation, Alexander found it irritated him more and more. Especially when he would stay after class to ask when Professor Snape would be coming back. The fourth time he'd asked, he'd gotten detention.

Changing this month hadn't been much fun. Professor Lupin had tried his best. He'd set up his father's rooms so that all the toys were out and that they could play. But the best part of the Change, in Alexander's mind, was the time he spent with his head on his father's lap as he read to him. And then the times he held him in his arms after the Change back.

Something was wrong. And no one would tell him what it was. The closest he'd gotten to an answer was from Professor Lupin who had shrugged. "I really don't know what's going on, Alexander. I wish I did. The moment I hear anything, I'll tell you. Wolf's honour."

Well, it had now been a week and he knew for certain that if he got an answer, he wasn't going to like it.

He was walking in the hallway just off the Great Hall entrance when he heard someone laughing about his father. He looked around and noticed a couple of seventh years. Gryffindors, of course. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

"Well, at least we don't have to deal with the Greasy Git these days."

Professor McGonagall was passing and she merely nodded at the two of them.

Inga Hillswick had warned Alexander about his temper. That it was something that he had to learn to control. And he had. But he was worried and he was fed up with hearing his father spoken about in that way, in that tone.

He exploded.

Ron Weasley was stunned to find the boy known as the Hat's Mistake screaming "Take that back!", and throwing himself onto him, fists flaying away.

"What the hell..."

With a shove, Weasley pushed Alexander away and he stumbled to the ground.

"What's gotten into you?"

"Hillswick!" shrilled Professor McGonagall.

Alexander pulled his wand out of his pocket and aimed it at Ron Weasley. "Petrificus Totalus!" he shouted. And watched as the boy who enjoyed defaming his father fell like a log to the ground.

Getting to his feet, Alexander pointed his wand at Potter.

"Hey!" Potter held his hands out. "I'm unarmed."

"Apologize!" shouted Alexander, his face fierce in his anger.

They were gathering a crowd. Slytherins and Gryffindors took positions behind their people. Professor McGonagall was still speechless by the fact that a first year had thrown a Petrificus successfully. Only Hermione Granger had previously done so, and that had been because she'd taught herself how from reading books she shouldn't have been reading.

"What's going on here?" Professor Lupin had heard Alexander's voice and had come rushing out of the Hall to rescue him. Except that the boy didn't need rescuing. "Alexander?"

"Hillswick, give me that wand!"

Alexander ignored Professor McGonagall again. His eyes firmly planted on the famous Harry Potter, wand pointed, he repeated, "Apologize, Potter."

"For what?" Potter looked truly unknowing of his transgression.

"For calling Professor Snape a greasy git."

"Oh, that." Potter rolled his eyes.

Lupin stepped close to but not between the two students.

"Alexander."

"NO! It's enough. If any one of us ever talked openly about a professor the way they do about Professor Snape, we would get detention."

The members of Slytherin who had gathered behind the boy were vocal in their agreement. Lupin looked at McGonagall who seemed offended by their response.

"It's true," said Lupin.

McGonagall's face turned beet red. "Professor Lupin..."

"The boy's right, Minerva."

There was some additional agreement from the spectators who were neither Gryffindor nor Slytherin.

Lupin thought McGonagall's eyes were going to pop out of her head.

"Professor Snape," said Alexander, eyes still on Potter, wand ready, "is my..."

Lupin held his breath.

"..is our Head of House, and as such deserves the same respect and courtesy as any other Head of House."

The Slytherins were loud in their support.

"Well, really!" McGonagall was livid.

Alexander didn't take his eyes off Potter but he answered her. "Are you saying that we wouldn't get detention if we referred to you in the hearing of another professor as that smelly old cat?"

There were several snickers, quickly stifled under McGonagall's angry glare.

Potter was the one who defused the situation. "You're right, Hillswick. He does. I apologize. On my behalf and on Ron's."

Alexander took a deep breath and let it out. He gave a small nod and lowered his wand. "On behalf of Slytherin, I accept."

Lupin placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. He knew where they would be called to and decided it would be a tactical manoeuver to get there as soon as possible.

"Hey, take your hands off him," snarled one of the older Slytherins.

"Yes," shouted another. "He doesn't need to be touched by a bloody werewolf."

Silence descended on the group. This time, Potter went for his wand.

Livid, Alexander turned to face his house-mates. "What's wrong with being a werewolf? I'm one."

Lupin closed his eyes and moaned softly. As he felt Alexander move away from him, he quickly reopened them and found his wand.

Alexander stalked up to the shocked boy. "Well, now that you know, I suppose you'll also want to put me down? Well, that's what you do with werewolves, isn't it? All they're good for, right?"

A couple of the Slytherins, eyes on Alexander's wand, slowly walked backwards.

Alexander glared at them all. "Well?"

One of the witches from first year piped up. "Alexander, are you truly a werewolf? You're not just saying that?"

"Yes, I'm a werewolf. A pureblood." He found Draco Malfoy in the crowd. "We've been around as long as any other old blood family. And we have the right to be here as much as anybody else."

Lupin placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I think that's enough for one day, Alexander."

And this time, no one challenged his right to lead the child to Dumbledore's office.

Lupin refused outright to leave Alexander alone with Dumbledore and McGonagall.

"Consider me his legal guardian," he said, voice cold, and the Headmaster understood.

Alexander said nothing at all in his defence. He just stood there, whitefaced, eyes focused on Fawkes who was eyeing the boy with curiosity.

Lupin stayed with his hand on the boy's shoulder, watching his face, while Minerva McGonagall indicated what she thought of the situation and what she referred to as the boy's excessive and unwarranted rudeness.

"Yes, yes, Minerva. I'll see to the matter." Dumbledore waited until she left to give the boy his sternest Headmaster look. "What interests me more, Hillswick, is how you know to throw a Petrificus."

Alexander seemed unconcerned. "My Bestefar, my mother's father. He taught me how to use it when I was seven. It's part of the training werecubs get from Elders. Like Nons learn to cast some spells before they get here."

"Remus?"

Lupin shrugged. "I was made, not born. I have no idea as to the exact training werecubs get from their Clans, though I do know that they are trained early in defensive manoeuvers."

"Still, a Petrificus?"

"Whatever works."

"So, Hillswick. This defence of your Head of House is all fine and good, but the manner in which you went about it is not at all acceptable."

Alexander moved his focus from the phoenix to the Headmaster. "Where's my father?"

Dumbledore sat back. "Your father?"

Alexander's eyebrow rose slightly. "You know. Professor Snape. Where is he?"

Lupin tightened his hold on the boy's shoulder, silently offering his support.

Dumbledore sighed. "Believe me; if I knew, I would tell you."

"No."

Dumbledore was obviously taken aback by the boy's scornful tone. Lupin swallowed the urge to laugh: shades of Snape!

"No?"

"No. I don't believe you. And no, I think you do know where he is. I also think you don't care." Alexander looked up to Lupin. "He's in trouble, isn't he? Why are none of you helping him? Because he's a greasy git?"

Lupin crouched so that he could speak to the boy, face to face. "I swore to you that I'd tell you if I heard anything."

Alexander shook his head. "That just means no one's told you anything."

He stepped away from Lupin's hold. Without looking back or asking for permission, he headed for the door.

"Hillswick!"

Lupin looked up, stunned. He had never heard Dumbledore use that tone with any student. Not even with Sirius Black after the Shrieking Shack incident. But then, not even Black would have dared indicate that the Headmaster was a liar.

Alexander stopped, hand on the door.

"Your wand. You are to leave it here."

His back still to them, the boy shook his head. "I'm sorry, Headmaster. But I need it for protection. By now the whole school knows that I'm a werewolf and I don't intend to make it easy for anyone to dispose of me."

"Whose fault is that? However, your protection is our concern, Master Hillswick."

Again the boy shook his head, "Excuse me, Sir, but I don't place much confidence in my father's colleagues to protect me."

Lupin stepped between the closing door and the Headmaster. Dumbledore was white with anger. Lupin waited until the Headmaster sat down, then he nodded and followed the boy out.

Minerva McGonagall was the one who found Severus Snape the next day, just off the path to Hogsmeade. She was still livid with the way the situation had been handled. Even some of her Gryffindors were siding with the Slytherin brat. Who seemed to have gotten away without points taken away or detention for the scene he had staged in front of her. She was walking briskly along and nearly tripped on a stone lying on the path. With a curse, she kicked it to one side where it thudded and she heard a moan.

She barely recognized the man lying there. His face was badly beaten and his body...

He had been wearing a robe but was naked under it. The wind or something had pulled it away from his body.

She knelt, shocked. His back was all bloody. She could only conclude that a whip of some kind was responsible for the kind of wounds that covered nape to calves.

Leaning over into the tall grasses, she emptied her stomach, and then, regaining some control, she spelled a message to the Infirmary. Only Poppy could decide if Snape could be moved.

The first time Snape roused enough to notice where he was, Dumbledore was sitting by his bed. With a voice still raw from his having screamed - in spite of the healing potions Pomfrey was using on him - he croaked his report and allowed himself to fall back into the welcome blackness.

The second time he was more alert. Poppy Pomfrey was fussing over him, making certain that his body was healing well for the next time he was summoned.

He didn't think he'd actually said that aloud but he might have because Pomfrey suddenly stopped what she was doing and just looked at him, face losing its colour.

"`Tsall righ'," he tried to say.

She tucked the blankets more snugly around him and sat by his bedside until he fell asleep again.

He woke to Minerva McGonagall.

He closed his eyes and wondered what she was doing here. She usually avoided him like the plague unless she was defending one of her Gryffindor pets from him.

"Was what you did as a Death Eater before coming to Dumbledore so reprehensible that you endure this as penance?"

Not a question he had ever expected to hear from any of his colleagues, let alone McGonagall.

But because she had asked, and because he was tired and his usual defences weren't up, he answered her. "Yes."

He closed his eyes and never heard her leave.

Lupin was reading one of Alexander's William books, smiling as he came across something that probably would have the boy laughing aloud.

"Ah, you're awake." Lupin placed the book down on the foot of the bed and went to help Snape sit up enough to slip a couple of pillows under his head. He held the glass of water while Snape thirstily emptied it.

"Alexander?"

Lupin smiled. "Doing fine. It's Wednesday, so he's not leading a mutiny today."

Snape frowned, not understanding.

Lupin took back his chair. "Snape, have you ever wondered what Alexander inherited from you?"

"His love of books." He had no idea what Lupin was on about. "What's going on? What did you mean, mutiny?" Snape frowned: he never had truly gotten Gryffindor humour.

"Try your temper. Your snarkiness. Your ability to spit in the face of authority. Your sense of justice. Your blunt honesty. Oh, and he throws a first class Petrificus, as you do."

Snape was thoroughly lost. "Alexander? He doesn't have a temper. He never gets angry."

With a smile that grew into a grin, Lupin brought Snape up to date about his son's behaviour.

Snape was stunned into complete silence.

"So, the upshot of all that is there was a staff meeting at which Albus made it clear that he expected the same levels of respect to be maintained for any member of staff and most especially Heads of House. That he did not expect every professor to be loved by the students of the school, but that was no reason for not respecting them. That each member of his staff had his or her position due to his or her expertise and that alone demanded recognition. Then he told the student body the same thing at breakfast the next morning. Quite firmly."

Lupin rose and went to get Snape a goblet of some potion Poppy had left for him. Snape hoped that it wouldn't send him to sleep as he needed to understand just what the hell had happened while he'd been gone. Lupin waited until Snape had finished drinking to continue.

"There's something else."

"Dear Merlin, what more?" Snape could feel a headache beginning that had nothing to do with his condition

Lupin sat on the side of Snape's bed. "He's told them all that he's a werewolf."

There were no words to get beyond his horror and fear.

Lupin patted his arm above the bandages that covered his wrist. "It's all right. If anyone decides to make his life miserable about it, they've got to get through Alexander's bodyguards."

"Bodyguards?"

Lupin nodded. "I kept him with me, that night. The next morning, there was a knock on the door. A delegation of first and second years, all Slytherin, about a dozen of them. Luton announced that they were here to see to it that Alexander got to breakfast and classes without any trouble."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Not that anyone in their right mind would try and take him on. Even Slytherin upper years are keeping an eye on him. He's a bit of a hero, you know, for taking on McGonagall. Not just with Slytherins. And he's quick with his wand. Weasley never knew what hit him.

"As I was saying, his bodyguards see him to and from classes and surround him if they have to go outside. Even Malfoy seems to have a healthy respect for him. Of course, the Petrificus may have something to do with that."

Then Lupin waited while Snape's tired brain assimilated all that information. It took several minutes. Once or twice, Snape opened his mouth to say something, but he didn't know what to say. He could only frown and rub his still bruised face, trying to wake himself up.

Lupin patted him on the arm again. "Do you want to see him now?"

"He knows I'm back?" The need to see his son battled with his desire to protect him. "No. Not like this. I don't want him to see me this way."

"Too late, I'm afraid."

"Why?"

"I made him the promise that I'd tell him anything as soon as I knew. Once Poppy cleaned you up, I brought him to see you. He was upset, but he handled it well." Before Snape could protest, he added, "He needed to see you, Snape. He's been every evening since you were found."

Snape stared at his hands. "How long..."

"It's been five days. Poppy says the fact that you were so dehydrated and starved is why the potions and spells are taking so long to work properly. She's managed to heal the external injuries but the internal ones are taking longer. She thinks that a few more days in bed and then taking it easy for a couple of weeks..."

Lupin stood up. "I take it Voldemort knows about your double role?"

Snape shook his head, still trying to make sense of what had occurred while he'd been gone. "He wasn't happy with my information. He doesn't like hearing certain things. This time there were four of us who displeased him. He just wanted to make certain we wouldn't do so again. Nor any other of his followers."

Lupin was horrified. "You can't be thinking of going back if he summons you again?"

Snape focused on Lupin who was watching him as though he were insane. "Do you want Voldemort to win?"

Alexander stood just inside the doorway, his eyes large in a pale face. He'd heard his father's scathing tones when someone or something had upset him. He was willing to accept that so long as he wasn't going to be sent away now that everyone knew what he was.

Professor Lupin placed his hand on his back and gave a little push. His father's face was white as he entered.

Standing there, Alexander found the courage to speak. "Are you going to yell at me?"

His father's voice was surprisingly soft. "No. Should I?"

Alexander looked at his feet. "I told them what I was. I wasn't supposed to."

"Yes, well," now his father sounded more resigned than upset, "I've been given to understand that there seems to have been a bit of a change of feeling where werewolves are concerned, even in Slytherin House."

Alexander shrugged. "I'm sorry." Then, because he needed to know, "Are you going to send me away?"

"For that? No."

"Will you send me away for the way I spoke to Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster?"

His father sat up straighter with only a few winces. Alexander was frightened to see him still so bruised, looking as white as his nightshirt.

"No. If I have to send you away, it'll be only to keep you safe. Alexander..." and stretched out a still bandaged hand.

Alexander took a few steps closer but didn't reach for Snape's hand.

"Alexander. Do you know, in all of my life, no one has ever before defended me."

Alexander was startled. "No one?"

"No one. You are the very first. Thank you."

Alexander took a step closer to the bed and stopped. "I want to touch you, papa, but I don't want to hurt you."

His father's smile was suddenly very strong. "Your touch could never hurt me, Alexander."

Professor Lupin closed the door behind himself as Alexander went into his father's arms.

Every evening, from the Infirmary, Alexander joined Snape in his rooms to do his homework. Every evening, Lupin escorted the boy back to the Slytherin portrait and watched him go in. Desmond, the prefect, saw to it that the boy went to bed.

The time with Alexander was the only part of the day when Snape behaved himself. His body was healed other than some scars which were slowly fading. Once he was allowed out of bed, he was restless, chafing to return to his classes, certain that Dumbledore was not maintaining the rigid standards that he set for his students. He was frustrated that Pomfrey would not permit him out of his rooms until she was satisfied that he was completely healed.

Lupin ate supper with him every night, bringing him up to date on school events, discussing the students' work with him. "You know them better than I do. You've had them longer."

"Are the Slytherins still giving you trouble?"

"About? Oh, the werewolf thing. No. Just they seem to think that the defence against the Dark Arts is of lesser interest than the use of them."

Snape smirked. "Yes, it would be, to them. And not just them. Maybe..." He shrugged.

Lupin looked up from the cup of tea he'd been pouring. "Maybe what?"

"Just maybe you should arrange for them to have a true taste of the Dark Arts. Just to show them what it's really like."

Lupin sat back and thought a minute. "Like another obstacle course. This time, with anything and everything coming at them. For all of them? Including the first years?"

Snape smiled. "Why not? If we go to war, they'll also need to know how to protect themselves. Ask Hagrid to get you some animal specimens. As long as you don't ask him where he's gotten them or how he's come by them, he'll be delighted to provide you."

Lupin got up and, without asking for Snape's permission, rummaged in his desk until he found paper and quill. Sitting down at Snape's desk, he began calling out some ideas for curses and spells as he jotted them down. Snape used his wand to move his favourite chair next to the desk and added his contributions to the plan.

That kept him occupied for exactly three days. Poppy Pomfrey thanked Lupin for coming up with the idea. "He's been out of bed for five days now and hasn't returned to classes. That's the longest he's ever rested."

Lupin carefully inquired. "He's been hurt like this before?"

Pomfrey nodded. "Though never this badly."

"And he keeps going back?" By now Lupin had understood that Poppy Pomfrey knew pretty much everything that was happening in the school, including its deepest, darkest secrets, and that anything said to her would never turn up in staff room gossip.

She looked up at him from the bandages she was rolling: she was forever complaining in the staff room about the amount of bandages needed by the students.

"The only way that will stop occurring is with his death or with Voldemort's."

"Ah, yes," Lupin's voice was edged with scorn. "Our hallowed need for information."

Snape walked into the Great Hall the next morning as though he hadn't been away for almost three weeks. He greeted his fellow staff members with his usual brusque nod of the head and sat waiting for his morning coffee.

Except that it wasn't the next morning and things had changed. Slytherin House stood up and applauded his return. One or two even cheered. The school had been told that he'd been in a serious accident, and it seemed his House wanted everyone to know that they, at least, were pleased to have him back.

Lupin leaned over and whispered, "Stand up and acknowledge them, you idiot. They're telling you something."

Looking over the staff table as he did so, Snape was surprised to find that several of them were smiling at him in approval. Dumbledore was wearing his most neutral face, waiting to see what he would do.

He rose, bowed to his House, and sat down. The noise gradually stopped but Snape felt their welcome all through his breakfast.

Dumbledore hadn't messed his classroom up that badly. He might have everything put back to where it belonged with only a couple of hours' work. When he accidentally knocked something over during his class with fifth year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, one of the students rushed to pick it up for him. He thanked the girl with a nod and she smiled at him.

"What the hell is going on?" Snape growled when he answered Lupin's inquiry as to how his morning had gone as they made their way to the staff table for the noon meal.

"What's the matter? Not used to common courtesy?" Lupin found Snape's confused irritation almost funny. If it weren't for the fact that it was dawning on him how differently the man was treated from the other teachers. Snape's scowl did make him smile. "Blame it all on Hillswick. Maybe they're afraid of his ability with a wand. Or maybe they've finally discovered that one of the reasons you can be such a prat in class is in reaction to their behaviour."

Snape shook his head. "My behaviour has nothing to do with theirs," he sneered, back again in good Snape form. "I am what I am; I am what I have always been. Alexander notwithstanding."

But Alexander had made a difference in Snape, thought Lupin, whether he was ready to acknowledge it or not.

Lupin had decided not to keep the Dark Arts Challenge for the end of the year. Instead, he prepared a different one each week and sent the students off to deal with it with no prior warning.

More than a few of the upper years discovered that talking about taking on the Dark Arts was one thing, actually doing so was another. Especially when they were being bombarded by spells and curses which may or may not have been real, all at the same time.

Of the Gryffindors, Ron Weasley was `killed' before he got half-way through the course. Potter and Granger were among the four from that House who actually finished the course. Potter's robe was singed and full of holes while Granger screamed at anyone who approached her for a good half hour after she had come through. Five of the Ravenclaws made it to the end with only three Hufflepuffs getting out in one piece. The Slytherins did the best of all. Seven of them made it through, including Draco Malfoy even though he had lost his sang-froid somewhere along the course. Lupin had made certain that if he were successful, it would be on his own, not with his double shadows at his side.

The younger years went in pairs, on a less intense but still difficult course. Alexander and his partner, Rhodri Ddu, a Slytherin who rarely spoke, came out of the obstacle course laughing almost hysterically at something that had happened. They wouldn't tell anyone but Snape eventually got it out of his son that one of the creatures Hagrid had supplied had been occupied `pooping' as they had come by it, which had, of course, engendered a series of poop jokes.

"Rhodri knows tons of them," giggled Alexander.

Oh, bloody hell, thought Snape. He'd forgotten that first years had a very developed sense of the scatological. He braced himself for a slew of them but apart from one or two actually funny ones - as Snape reluctantly acknowledged - Alexander kindly kept his now growing store of such jokes and puns for the dormitory.

It astonished Snape to discover that, in spite of his confession, his son was popular and had friends in many of the years and Houses. From his mother, he thought; Alexander had to get that from his mother. He couldn't remember having a friend at all during his time as a student.

Lupin was helping Pomfrey move one of the private infirmary rooms around. Not that he'd volunteered; she'd grabbed him as he'd wandered by on the way to the library.

"This won't take long," she assured him.

They were almost done when he looked out the window to see a small group of boys laughing and making forts out of the snow that had been dumped on the grounds by a surprise overnight storm. Alexander was organizing one side, gesturing as he stooped and hurriedly made snowballs to add to their munitions pile.

Pomfrey looked over his shoulder and smiled. "The Hat's Mistake. You know, Remus, I don't think that Hat made any kind of mistake. There's been more laughter from Slytherin this year than I can remember."

Lupin smiled. "He's very sure of himself."

"Yes," she agreed. "One can always tell a child who is confident that he is loved." She paused as the Head of Slytherin came out and stood watching - from a safe distance - the children throw snowballs at each other. "Just as one can tell a child who's known none."

Lupin watched her as she moved a small lamp on a bedside table an inch over to her satisfaction. "What do you mean?"

She looked up. With a shrug she walked over to the bed and refluffed the pillows. "It's not a secret. If you ask any of the professors who were here when you all started, they could tell you. Severus is the result of a marriage between two old houses, a political merger. I don't think that either of his parents paid the slightest bit of attention to him once he was born. I wonder," she sounded reflective, "if that might have been different if he'd been a pretty baby?" Then she shook her head, "No, I doubt it.

"He was hurt in first year. Don't you remember? Hooch was running a class through some flying exercise when one of them lost control of his broomstick and crashed into a few of the children. Severus fell to the ground from a height of about forty feet. He was unconscious for several minutes. He had a hairline fracture of the skull. Albus wasn't here so I sent an owl to his parents, informing them that the boy had been hurt. I got a return owl from their legal representative, informing me that I was never to bother the Snapes again with such trivial matters, and that any such correspondence should, in the future, be directed to him.

"I don't think Severus has seen his parents other than in the newspapers since he first arrived here."

Because of his size, Alexander hadn't been allowed to play Quidditch. He was quick but Hooch wasn't certain that he could hold his own with people so much larger than he was. Still, she did allow him to join his House for practice now and then.

"Good thing Hillswick is still so small," Potter commented to Malfoy - in the hearing of several people - as they watched the boy chase the Snitch with grim determination, "or you'd have been replaced for certain. Even on that old broomstick he's better than you've ever been." And he grinned delightedly as Malfoy went white.

Snape, as Hillswick's guardian, had given his permission for the boy's attendance at practices, and found it disconcerting that his `bodyguards' followed him there, augmented by the presence of several older witches who were more than happy to cheer him on.

"Only an excuse to come ogle the boys," muttered Hooch when Snape brought himself to comment on it. "The females, that is. They mature earlier than males, you know. Before Hillswick catches on to that, you'd better have the Talk with him."

"The talk?"

Hooch took her eyes off the racing broomsticks to glare at the Potions instructor. "The Talk. You know. Snogging, shagging and the consequences thereof."

Snape was horrified. "He's not even twelve!"

"As I said, females mature earlier, but eleven's not too early for that, even for males. Want me to have a little chat with him? I don't mind. Do it all the time with the girls."

Snape shook his head. "No, I'll do it. It is my responsibility. As his guardian."

"Well, as his guardian, you might like to include fraternizing with older students." Hooch gestured with her head to the two Slytherin witches whom Snape knew were in third year. "They find him `cute'. And mature for his age. Must be the werewolf thing. BULSTRODE! You hit the Bludger away from your side, not at it!"

Lupin was watching the practice from one of the porches. He had no idea what Hooch had been saying to Snape except that he'd looked fairly startled and then positively uncomfortable when she'd flown off to deal with some problem.

Minerva McGonagall stepped up next to him, holding her cloak tightly around herself. It might be May but spring this year had been cooler than the norm, and the air was quite chilly in the shade. Apart from a silent nod, they ignored each other's presence. Things were still frosty between them since the day Lupin had sided with Slytherin against her.

"The boy was right."

Lupin glanced over his shoulder. McGonagall was staring at the pitch, not looking at him.

"Not just about how Snape is treated as a professor, but also how he was treated as a student. If the Marauders had picked on any other student the way they did on him, they would have been suspended at the very least."

Lupin nodded. "I've been thinking about that, too. It didn't matter what we did to him, he was always...within hitting distance. I never understood. You'd have thought that self-preservation would..."

McGonagall turned to glare at him. "Are you serious, Lupin? You don't understand why he stayed `within hitting distance'?"

Lupin shook his head. "By the time of the Incident..."

"The one at the Shrieking Shack? Oh, don't be such an idiot, Lupin," she scoffed, "Albus had to tell me. He was afraid that Snape might decide on revenge and we wanted no more incidents."

Lupin agreed coldly. "Yes, it wouldn't have done the school reputation much good to have a student kill another merely because he'd nearly been torn apart by a werewolf who wasn't even supposed to be attending said school."

McGonagall ignored all that. "Go back to the incident. What about `by the time of the incident'?"

Lupin turned to face her. "I don't understand how Sirius even managed to get him to go to the shack."

"You don't, do you? Seriously."

"Seriously. I don't."

McGonagall found the boy flying at breakneck speed after the snitch, oblivious to the white-faced man watching him. "All Black had to do was tell Snape that you wanted to see him."

"That's it?" Lupin was confused. "Why..."

McGonagall snapped at the man beside her. "Because he was in love with you. Everyone in the school knew it. Except, it seems, you. That's why he went. That's why he nearly died. That's why he hates you all so much."

And she turned around and went back in, leaving Lupin with his mouth open.

The staff was listening to Sprout report on the development of the mandrakes when the evening meeting was interrupted by a hesitant knocking on the door of the staff room.

Sinistra shrugged and went to see who it was.

"Please, Madam Sinistra, is Professor Snape here?"

"Why shouldn't he be?"

Isabelle Caldecott walked past her into the room. "Professor! You are here!"

Snape quirked an expressive eyebrow. "As you can see," he drawled. "Is that a problem?"

The first year suddenly looked frightened. "It's Alexander, sir. Malfoy said he'd found you on the path to Hogsmeade and that you were injured again. They went off together. Sir, Malfoy hates Alexander."

Dumbledore reached to grab the man rushing by him. "Severus!" he snapped.

Snape pulled out of his hold and went running for the main door. He was out on the grounds when he heard, "Snape! Up here!" He paused long enough to identify Lupin on a broomstick, holding another in his hand. "Faster this way!" and he dropped the broomstick.

They flew quickly along the path to Hogsmeade, all the way into the village, and back, carefully checking to see if there could have been an accident. They found no signs of either Malfoy or Alexander.

Then, suddenly, the mark on Snape's left arm began to burn.

At the school, Dumbledore quickly convened the older students, purposefully excluding any from Slytherin, and had them conduct a careful search of the school.

The younger Slytherins were livid with the idea that one of their own would seriously do anything to harm a fellow classmate.

"Oh, give it up," yawned Crabbe. "It's only a bloody werewolf."

"The damn thing's just going to learn its place," sneered Goyle. "Besides, who the hell cares what happens to it?"

Within one minute, Isabelle Caldecott and her best friend, Hester Humphries, were running through the halls trying to find the Headmaster. Three minutes after they had, Crabbe and Goyle found themselves in Dumbledore's office, facing the wizard who had defeated the Dark Wizard Grindewald. Without Draco Malfoy to keep them in line, they saw no reason not to talk, even to boast a little.

"He's taking him to the Dark Lord." Crabbe sneered, too stupid to understand just how angry Dumbledore was.

Goyle sat down on the edge of the Headmaster's desk and grinned at him. "The Death Eaters have known for years that Snape is nothing but your spy and Draco figured out the boy is important to the traitor for a reason. So he's taken Hillswick as a way of showing that he's ready to join the Master's Inner Circle."

"He'll ask the Master to summon the traitor and he's sure that, even though Snape knows it's a trap, he'll walk into it." Crabbe couldn't help revelling in the thought. "Then Draco's going to kill both of them."

"All three of them," Goyle gloated. "Seems that Lupin's with Snape. Two werewolves for the price of one. The Master will be more than happy to reward Draco."

"And then," smirked Crabbe, "he'll reward us."

"Like hell he will!" Dumbledore gestured with his hand and muttered a few words. Crabbe and Goyle found themselves wrapped in rope, gagged and stuffed into a wardrobe which Dumbledore spelled locked.

"Sir!"

Dumbledore turned quickly, ready to cast another spell. It was Potter.

"Sir. I think you know Rhodri Ddu, Hillswick's best friend. He knows something that may be of help to us. Go on, Rhodri, tell the Headmaster what you told me."

"They were casting tracer spells on each other this afternoon," explained Harry to Ron and several of the other seventh years. "So that they could track each other in the dark. They were planning on sneaking out tonight and playing some fool made-up game about tracking. Seems it's in one of the William books. Tracer spells that can only be followed with the right counterspells. Not visible to the naked eye."

"Quite bright of them," mused Hermione, "even if they were breaking the rules."

"Fuck the rules," growled Justin Finch-Fletchley. "Let's go find them."

"I'm going with you." Rhodri shook his head, firm in the face of so many disapproving staff. "I'm not telling you the counterspells unless I do."

"Counterspell*s*?" Professor Flitwick glared at the boy who was taller than himself. "How many of those things did you use?"

"William used three, but Alexander thought it would be more fun if we could make the trail more difficult and so we used five in all."

"Bloody hell," Hooch growled, "they're supposed to be first years! When did they become so proficient in spells?"

Rhodri was seated at the front of Harry Potter's Firebolt, wand at hand, trying hard to remember the order of spells and counterspells. Ginny Weasley rode next to them, ready to take the boy back to Hogwarts the moment he had done with them. Behind, wands at the ready, flew most of the staff and all of seventh years who had broomsticks of their own or who had been able to grab one. Those who hadn't were guarding the Slytherin section of the school, seeing to it that, under Dumbledore's specific orders, not one of them was to sneak out, either by door, window or secret passage until they returned.

"Consider them all guilty until proven innocent," Dumbledore had ordered the prefects he had called to him before leaving. "I'll offer my apologies to those who truly are when we return."

"It's a trap."

Snape shrugged. "Yes, of course it is. For me."

They were flying side by side following whichever route the mark indicated. It burnt strongly when Snape went off-course, faded to a throb when on the right one.

"Go back and warn Dumbledore. Lupin, there's no reason for you to be walking into it with me."

Lupin ignored him, just kept an eye focused on the horizon. He had better night vision than Snape, one of the few benefits of being a werewolf. He suddenly reached over and grabbed Snape's arm. "Stop. Over there. By the Circle of Stones. There's some sort of glow. Wait, Snape! You can't just fly into that."

Snape looked at Lupin for the first time since they'd set out. Even in the dark of night it was easy to see that Snape was deadly angry. "He has my son. What do you think he's going to do with him?"

They had barely gotten out of sight of the school when the little arsehole realized Malfoy had lied to him. Hillswick stopped and turned around, trying to head back. Malfoy grabbed him and slapped him hard across the face. "No, you don't. You're staying with me. You need to learn your place in the scheme of things, and it's not as my equal, you disgusting animal."

Draco Malfoy was bigger than Hillswick, but Hillswick didn't make it easy for him. Malfoy finally had to bind his robe about him before he could get the brat onto the broomstick that he had hidden in the bushes at the extent of Hogwarts.

With a laugh, he took to the air and the site where he hoped the Dark Lord was waiting for him. He had sent an owl to his father earlier that day when he's finally worked out that Hillswick was more than a regular student to Snape. Just after Potter had insulted him yet again. He'd gone off to demand that the brat be banned from the pitch - Snape usually did as he asked, just to keep him happy - when he'd realized that the Head of House was far too emotionally involved in watching the boy. Rather, Malfoy had thought, like a coddling parent, afraid that something might happen to the boy as he showed off for Hooch and the others.

Malfoy had been spying on the Potions instructor since he'd first arrived at Hogwarts. Lucius Malfoy had never trusted Snape after he'd left the Death Eaters only to return, supposedly penitent, with a plan to spy on Dumbledore who would think Snape was in fact spying for him. Lucius knew Draco loved challenges, the more underhand the better, and that spying on an instructor was just such a challenge. Moreover, Draco hungered to prove his worth to their Lord and was happy to do so in any way asked of him.

It had been easy enough to find others who thought as he did, and he'd soon had several sources of information for the Master's use to verify whether what Snape was bringing him was indeed correct. From his father, Draco knew that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rather enjoyed having to `discipline' his agent for not bringing him enough news, or for not telling him things that the Master had learned through his other agents. And no matter in what shape Snape was returned to Dumbledore, Dumbledore always insisted that Snape continue with his `deception'.

But now Snape had reached the limit of his usefulness: he was beginning to bore the Dark Lord. Lucius Malfoy was pleased with his son's deductions concerning Snape and this werewolf and had sought his Lord and presented him with Draco's plan.

Now, standing beside the wizard who intended to rule the world - with himself at his right hand, of course - Lucius hoped that his son was indeed correct. If Draco's plans went off as he wanted, the Malfoys would be one step closer to being confirmed as their Lord's Immediates. It would give the Dark Lord much pleasure to supervise the slow death of the man who had betrayed him and of the child the man held dear, whether son or other, it didn't matter.

If, on the other hand, Draco's plan failed...

A challenge and a password. A broomstick flying in to land its riders in the small clearing within the Circle of Stones.

A deep obeisance, elegantly done as befitted a Malfoy from one of the oldest wizard houses. A dazzling smile that even the Dark Lord took the time to notice.

"I assume from your pleasure that your plan was successful."

"My pleasure, my Lord, is merely being in your presence. It is my honour to present you with the success of my plan." He pointed to the bundle on the ground at his feet.

"Ah, the boy you say Snape is so fond of."

"The boy?" Lucius wondered if Draco's sneering disdain might be going too far. "This is not a boy, my Master. But a werewolf. It has no claim of any sort to humanity."

The Dark Lord nodded his approval. Lucius breathed a little more easily: Draco could go too far at times.

"But you think that the traitor will follow him here?"

Draco bowed again. "Not follow, Lord, but summoned. It is a dark night. We may have to..." he smiled once more, "help the traitor find his way here."

Lucius stiffened at Draco's audacity in correcting their Lord. The wizard did not take kindly to correction, even in such a teasing manner. He glared at his son, who ignored him.

Voldemort waited just long enough to respond so that the smile began to waver. He liked keeping his followers on their toes, worried about his reaction to their news. Besides, he had already sent the summons; Snape shouldn't be far behind.

Still, he did like the audacity of this young one. And his hunger. Yes, he would do well. Maybe even better than the father who was growing a little too restless in his position. His Death Eaters often had to be reminded that only he decided the fates of those around him. It might be interesting to see just how far the son was ready to go for his position. Would he care to try for the father's?

But before that, there was another pleasure to enjoy.

"Let me see the...cub."

Draco unbound the boy and hauled him to his feet. "Bow to your Master, cur!"

The boy, still wobbly on his feet, kicked out and got Draco on the shin. He paid for it with a blow across the face.

"It has spirit."

"It has delusions of grandeur," snarled Draco, once more jerking the boy to his feet. "It thinks that its family is as pure of blood as are ours. For that alone, I would request the right to kill it when it is no longer useful to my Master."

"You're just angry that Harry thinks I'd make a better Seeker than you!" The boy managed to avoid Draco's next blow. Voldemort wondered if the boy was truly that brave or just that ignorant. He doubted that Bimm included his role in recent history in his lectures. "You think you're going to kill me?" The boy looked around until he focused on Voldemort. "You won't kill me. Professor Snape will find me before you try anything and he'll kill you all."

Voldemort almost smiled: the cub was too angry to be scared. He snickered and then realized that by doing so he had startled the men around him. "The cub, as you say, needs a lesson." Voldemort stretched out his hand and with a smile that caused several of his Death Eaters to step back, spoke. "Crucio!"

The boy screamed as the curse hit him. He dropped to the ground, body writhing with pain.

Voldemort ended the screaming with another wave of his hand. "A taste, cub, of what is to come."

The boy sobbed as he pulled himself into as small a ball as he could.

"Ah, the great Dark Lord at his finest." Snape's clear sarcasm filled the clearing. "Reduced to picking on a child."

He stepped out from behind one of the stones, eyes blazing black in a whitened face, wand at the ready.

"The traitor comes. As you predicted, Draco. You have pleased me greatly this night. I shall remember that."

"I live but to serve you, my wondrous Lord." With a smirk, Draco stepped backwards from Snape to take a place next to his father. Lucius was momentarily peeved that his son would assume that he should stand next to him. Voldemort noticed and it added to his enjoyment of the evening.

Snape carefully made his way to where his son was slowly trying to rise. "Alexander."

The boy gasped as he pushed himself to his knees. "He...hurt...me."

Around him, Snape could sense his former colleagues slowly closing in on them. He could only hope that Lupin was in position. He knew the Death Eaters expected the same kind of behaviour that he usually gave them. The sniveling sycophant who knew that he treaded on dangerous ground. Who, at a sneer from his Lord, would drop to his knees, terrified of the repercussions of his actions. Who allowed himself to be beaten and whipped for their Lord's pleasure.

Instead of going to the boy, Snape spun the tip of his wand and immediately the area around him filled with a dense fog. Under cover, he stooped, grabbed Alexander and, barely daring to think of the consequences if Lupin was not where he needed to be, he stood and, with a burst of strength, threw his son over the heads of the Death Eaters who were being blinded by his creation.

He heard a "Yes!" from a voice he recognized just as the fog dissipated.

"Excellent attempt at escape, traitor. I shall miss you. You can be so amusing when you try."

"Where's the cur?" Draco took a step closer to Snape, face filled with venom. "What have you done with the cur?"

"I haven't done anything with the boy. If he's not here, it's probably because he's apparated somewhere."

Lucius make a scoffing noise. "Are you trying to tell us a child can apparate?"

Snape, conscious of the ever closing circle behind him, pointed his wand at Draco. "Why not? He had no trouble throwing a Petrificus Totalus on a Gryffindor. Ask Draco if I'm lying. He was there when the boy downed Weasley."

"You're lying, Severus," Lucius snarled. "You have always lied and it's time to cut out your lying tongue. Search for the cur. It can't have gotten very far."

Snape hoped that Lupin had apparated away as soon as he had caught Alexander. So far he'd counted twenty-three Death Eaters, apart from the Malfoys and Voldemort, and he knew from previous meetings that there had to be more. He didn't expect he would be getting out of this situation, but he wanted his son to have a chance at life.

"No need to look. I've found us another toy for your pleasure, Master. There are times when answering the call of nature can be very fortunate, my Lord."

Lupin, with Alexander by his side, walked into the circle, a Death Eater's wand to the boy's head.

It looked as though the traitor had finally realized that nothing could be won. His wand slowly tilted downwards as he spoke to the two. "I'm sorry."

The flame that suddenly shot out of his wand hit Draco in the legs. The wizard screamed as the fire caught in his robe and he hurriedly tried to remove it. Lupin pulled the boy to himself as flames, spells and curses flew around the clearing. He managed to drag the boy behind one of the stones as he pulled out his wand. Alexander also had his at hand and tried to see where his father was.

"Keep your head down, boy."

"Where is he? Where's my father?"

Lupin heard the note of hysteria in the boy's voice. He pulled the boy over against the stone and grabbed him by the chin. "Alexander, look at me. This is no time to panic. You know how to use Petrificus, so get ready to use it on anyone who comes anywhere near." A line of spell ricocheted off the stone and Lupin pulled the boy to him. "Damn!" He peered around the stone and saw Snape was lying on the ground, using the body of the Death Eater who had found them as a shield, spelling Avada Kedavra at anyone who showed his face from behind the other stones that the Death Eaters were now using as defence.

Lupin saw a derobed Draco manoeuver himself around another body as he tried to work his way to a straight line at Snape. Without waiting he screamed, "DRACO!"

Malfoy turned, offering a perfect target. Lupin's "Avada Kedavra!" hit the Slytherin before he could react.

"Snape! Over here! I'll cover you!"

Alexander, knowing only that his father was trying to join them, leaned around the other side of the stone and began throwing Petrificus indiscriminately, just hoping they would hit someone.

Over it all, the Lord Voldemort merely watched with growing enjoyment. Death was so arousing. Even if it was that of his own followers. There were more where these came from. As ambitious, as dedicated. "I want them alive," he shouted over the dim. "All three of them." And stood watching as his Death Eaters tried to fulfill his orders without paying with their lives.

It pleased him when Snape, crawling on his stomach, made it to the stone where he was pulled behind its supposed security. He would enjoy that particular death.

Enough, he thought. This had gone on long enough. Time for them to die for him, slowly. He licked his lips at the thought of their long, painful deaths. The child first so that he could hear the others beg. But not here. He wanted to enjoy their screams at his leisure, in the comfort of his base.

He raised his hand and pointed to the stone. With a smile, he gestured and it exploded, shards flying all over.

"Bring them to me," he ordered.

It took him a moment to understand that the lines of spells that filled the clearing came, not from his followers, but from above.

All the spells being cast had lit up the clearing enough so that he could make out dozens of broomsticks and then Dumbledore swooping down, coming at him. He hadn't planned on taking on his old enemy just yet, but since the opportunity seemed to have presented itself, he was not adverse to using it.

Lucius was still at Lord's side. Malfoy had seen his son fall under the curse of the werewolf. He wanted the werewolf dead. Now. Before his Master could deny him that pleasure. He called forth a fireball from his wand and sent it at the man who was shaking the bits of stone off himself as he tried to rise. A larger slab of rock held his legs captive. Lupin looked up just in time to see the ball of flame coming at him. He had lost his wand and couldn't counterspell, had he even the time.

Lucius's grin was feral.

Just as the ball was about to reach the werewolf, Snape reached out with his hands and grabbed it, preventing it from hitting its target. With a scream, Snape threw the fireball back, not at Lucius but at the Dark Lord.

Voldemort saw it coming and with a negligent wave of his hand, sent it off into the battle that was raging around them. Another wave and Snape lay unconscious. However, that allowed Dumbledore time to throw the death curse at him.

It hit, but to no effect.

Voldemort's laughter was joyous. "Albus, my old teacher. Surely you don't expect me, of all people, to fall under such a spell. All death does is make me fly. To the heights of ecstacy." He stood, his arms open as though welcoming a lover. "Try again, Albus. See just how strong I've become."

Around them, the sounds of fighting faded as Death Eaters and rescuers alike slowly became aware of the deathless duel going on in their midst.

Every time Dumbledore sent "Avada Kedavra" at the Dark Lord, his laughter grew louder until the only sounds in the clearing were those of Dumbledore's curses and Voldemort's laughter.

Those professors not occupied with the fleeing Death Eaters added their own curses to the drama. All that happened was that a green light, faint at first, then growing deeper in colour, spiraled around the body of the Dark Lord.

Harry Potter flew in to stand by the Headmaster. He was bleeding from a deep gash along the line of his jaw. He, too, pointed his wand and added his curse.

"Ah, Harry. The famous Boy Who Lived. Well, I live because of you. It's because of you that I have grown so strong."

Potter hesitated and then, with a thoughtful look, brought the tip of his wand to his own face and rolled it in the blood that was dripping off his jaw.

Voldemort saw him do so and his laughter stopped. With great disdain, he scoffed, "Do you seriously think that is going to help, Harry?"

"My blood gave you life, Voldemort. Maybe my blood can take it away. Avada Kedavra!"

The line of curse that flew out of Harry's wand was green tinged with red.

Red that didn't assimilate into the green of the spiral.

Red that gradually took over the spiral.

Red that seemed to grow in darkness and density until Voldemort couldn't get away from it.

Red that covered the Dark Lord's face and body, that seeped into his mouth, his eyes, his ears, his very pores until he dropped to his knees and then face to the ground.

Where the red burst into a flame of such intensity that even Dumbledore had to find shelter behind a stone in order to avoid being burnt.

And when the flame dimmed and died down, all that was left of the wizard who wanted to take over the world was an outline of ash that was so fine the faintest puff of air sent it flying.

No sooner had Voldemort been rendered to dust than the area began filling with Aurors who quickly took over the situation.

Potter rushed up to Lupin, verified that though both Alexander and Snape were not moving, they were still breathing. The stump of the rock that Voldemort had exploded had protected Alexander. Still, some of the shards had cut his robe and his back was bleeding where it hadn't protected him.

With the help of Finch-Fletchley, Potter removed the chuck of stone that held Lupin's legs pinned without causing further damage. Both legs were bruised and his left ankle had been broken in his fall.

Snape was also covered with the sharp shards - some had even slashed his face - but the most worrying of his injuries were his hands, burnt from having handled the fireball.

When the Aurors' medical people arrived, Lupin insisted, "The boy first. See to the boy first."

But the Department of Aurors wasn't Hogwarts with its small medical staff: there were more than enough medi-personnel to deal with the situation. While an older witch gently saw to the boy, quickly dealing with his cuts, healing them, verifying if he had concussion, another dealt with Lupin while two burn experts iced then began the healing spells on Snape's hands.

At Dumbledore's firm insistence, all those injured were brought back to the school. Pomfrey had been warned and was waiting for them, with students ready to help.

They'd made it back, all of them. Miraculously, not one of those from Hogwarts had been lost. Oh, there were injuries: burns from spells, concussions and broken bones from falling off broomsticks, some trauma from the brutality of the event. The staff had cursed to kill and the sight of a coldly angry Minerva McGonagall casting Avada Kedavra with no consideration of its recipients was not something any of them would soon forget.

Snape had regained consciousness and was fighting the Aurors who were accompanying him back, trying to find Hillswick.

Passing by, Pomfrey snapped at him, "Severus! Control yourself. The boy is with me in the main treatment room." And then was taken aback by his reaction. Barely able to walk straight, face half covered with a bloody bandage, Snape barreled into the room and made his way over to the boy who, on seeing him, reached out for him, bursting into the first tears anyone had seen from Hillswick that night.

"Well," Pomfrey sounded slightly disapproving. "A little overboard for the Head of Slytherin House," she sniffed.

Lupin was waiting his turn at treatment, sitting on one of the small beds that filled the Infirmary. "But not at all for a frantic father."

Pomfrey turned to face him, her mouth slowly opening at yet another surprise on this night of surprises.

By the time she closed it, she was organizing Snape's care next to the boy who barely allowed his father out of reach. Snape suddenly became her priority and, once she was satisfied that the spells, salves and special bandages were working on healing his hands, she moved the two of them into the private room.

Lupin quietly opened the door. There, propped up with pillows on the bed in the private room, lay Severus Snape, bandaged hands holding his sleeping son against his chest.

Snape looked up to see who was at the door. His face was pale, bruised eyes standing out. Pomfrey had healed the cuts on his face and the scars were slowly disappearing - as was the brand on his arm. The deep lines that bracketed his mouth remained, showing his exhaustion, and yet he also appeared more...tranquil than Lupin could ever remember seeing him.

When Snape didn't challenge his presence, Lupin limped into the room, closing the door behind him.

Lupin nodded towards the boy. "Is he all right?"

Snape managed a shrug. "Poppy seems to think so. She gave him a Healing Sleep draught. She wanted to cast Obliviate on him, but I want to see how he is before we go that far."

Lupin looked around the room for a place to sit. His ankle had been healed but it still hurt to put much weight on it. He was supposed to be lying down in his quarters. There had been a chair in the room when he and Poppy had rearranged it but it wasn't there now. With some hesitation, he gestured to the foot of the bed, which took up more room that it usually did. It must have been spelled larger to accommodate the two patients.

With equal hesitation, Snape nodded.

Lupin hobbled over and used his wand to command a couple of pillows to appear from his room. He propped them against the foot of the bed and sat back, sighing when he took his weight off his ankle, stretching out his legs so that he now faced the other two occupants of the bed.

"If I may suggest, don't do it. There's nothing he really need forget about this night."

Snape looked almost ferocious. "No?" His sarcasm was strong. "My son suffered Cruciatus tonight."

Lupin nodded. "True. But he survived it. And you'd take that away from him. Snape, your son was a hero tonight. He stood up to forces that have sent men cowering. He kept his head when others wouldn't have. He never panicked. When faced with battle, he took part with a determination not to go down without casualties. The fact that all he could cast was Petrificus doesn't diminish the fact that he's responsible for having kept us safe on one front. Don't take any of that away from him."

Snape closed his eyes and rested his less-injured cheek on his son's head. "He's so young." Whispered so low that even this close Lupin barely heard him.

He smiled. "Yes, but he's his father's son. He'll deal with it. By the way, I seem to have let it slip that he is your son. You'll be happy to know that fact was not known by the entire school."

Snape looked up at Lupin's tone, frowning, obviously not getting the reference.

"He's very fortunate, your son, and not just in having you." Lupin smiled at the child who even in sleep was clutching his father. Snape, he knew, was not going to be able to sleep until Alexander awoke, until he was certain that all was well with his child. Maybe this was a good time to deal with some things.

Lupin tucked his hands into the sleeves of the nightshirt Poppy had forced upon him. "There are many differences between a made werewolf and a genetic one. Did you know that? Not just in the Change. Genetic ones are...constructed, for lack of a better term, for the Change. It's painful but less so than for made ones.

"And he's fortunate in having a Clan. Made ones never have one. In very rare cases, we can be accepted but we never truly belong. We are, after all, a fluke of fate. Someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"I was seven when I was made. By that age, Alexander was already in training. He was being taught by the Elders of his Clan how to behave during the full moon, how to deal with his bursts of energy after the Change to cub, how to protect himself. Not just as a cub, but as a human werewolf. Did you know that it was his mother's father who had taught him how to throw a Petificus by then?"

Snape nodded. He remained silent, just listening. Lupin appreciated that.

"My parents loved me. Even after I was bitten. But they didn't know what to do with me, how to help me. They kept me hidden those nights of the full moon. I tore whatever place they put me in apart. Alexander's never done anything like that because his Clan knows about the need to expend energy after a Change, about the need to run, even about the need to find a pack. Alexander told me that every couple of months his cousins would visit or he would visit them at the time of the Change. Not just to play as cubs, but to learn his proper order in the pack.

"I only came in contact with a Clan after I left Hogwarts. They were horrified that I knew so little about being a werewolf, and they kindly took me in for some time, to educate me as to the whys and wherefores of being a proper one. It was too late by then for them to invite me to join them: fully grown werewolves are too set in their ways. Too solitary for the pack. Those of us who are made need to be integrated into a Clan as soon after the making as possible to have a chance at a place in it. Usually, by the time we even learn Clans exist, it's too late.

"Alexander will always have his Clan. He will always have a place where he's accepted as he is. He will always have his proper place within it. Where he knows he's welcomed and, yes, even loved.

"His mother gave him all that. His place in the Clan. You will give him his place in the world of wizards. He'll be able to choose which he prefers, what he wants from each. As I said, he is a fortunate child. A well-loved child. With friends in both worlds."

Lupin waited a moment but Snape remained silent, cheek resting on his child's head, eyes tired but intent on the man speaking.

"I didn't have any friends until I got here. My parents had signed me up for Hogwarts after I was born and, when it was time for me to attend, they came to see the Headmaster. Albus was still fairly new at the position. And he knew my parents. He was shocked when they told him what had happened to me but assured them that he would accept me. They were both unwell by then. The stresses of having to deal with a werewolf child... They died in my second year and Albus became my official guardian."

He smiled at Snape's obvious surprise. "Yes, well, the old reprobate can keep a secret. One of the reasons why so many difficult cases do end up at Hogwarts. Parents know that Albus Dumbledore will find a way of dealing with...with things they either can't or won't."

Snape smile was humourless. "Oh, yes, I know."

Lupin nodded. Like Alexander, he thought, he had been fortunate in his choice of parents. They had done their best for him; what harm they had done had come out of ignorance, not negligence.

"When I first got here, Albus made it known that I had an illness that required me to spend some time in St. Mungo's once a month. That worked with my dorm mates for about three months. Sirius was the first to work out what my problem was."

Snape sneered but said nothing. Lupin smiled at his self-restraint.

"I fascinated him. Actually," his tone turned wondering, "anything out of the ordinary fascinated him. He wanted to know what happened when I Changed. Drove me crazy with questions. At the most inopportune of times. You know Sirius, no concept of holding off, of waiting for the right moment. If a question popped into his head during Transfiguration, well, he needed the answer right away.

"James overheard us one day and knew by the end of class. Peter shared our dorm and was sworn to secrecy. Strangely, it was one of the few he ever kept.

"James was interested less in the physical aspects of Change than in the emotional, the psychological. He spent the summer between first and second year researching; he's the one who discovered that werewolves are mainly a danger to humans. That animals are wary of the werewolf but only as they are of any other wolf. That's how the animagus thing began.

"You have to understand how lonely I was, how aware of being...abnormal. That these three would actually want to help me, to spend the time of my Change with me... It was overwhelming. After they mastered their transfigurations, I only used the Shrieking Shack for the actual Changing. I needed a place where my screams would not be...well, out of place. By the way, there's something in your potion that's making that easier these days. You really should work on that."

Snape only nodded. Lupin was certain that would become Snape's next potions project.

"Anyway, why am I telling you all this now? It's because I want you to understand that I thought myself so blessed even to have friendship that I never thought that someone might actually love me."

Actually, there had been a time back then, after the Shrieking Shack incident, when he had had someone, but he wasn't going to think about that now.

Snape raised his head and something close to his old anger flashed on his face. Then it went away and only a coldness remained.

"It never crossed my mind. Alexander, with his Clan, would never think that way. If he cares to find a mate and the wizard world won't provide him with one, the Clans will. My experience tells me that even now I have little chance at finding a mate. It's one thing to fuck a werewolf, quite another to remain in a such relationship, to deal with and work on all the problems that encompasses."

Lupin stopped and stared at his hands. He sighed then looked at Snape. "I didn't know. Maybe I was blind, but, in my defence, how could I see when I couldn't even conceive that it might be a possibility. And the others were so used to protecting my secret that...

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the way Sirius used that against you as a way of protecting me. And I'm sorry we never had a chance to discover if you would have turned against me once you'd known what I was."

He got off the bed and spelled the pillows away. As he made his way to the door, he stopped by the side of the bed and smiled down at Alexander. He tucked the blanket more snugly around the boy's shoulders. "He's going to be fine. He's secure in the love of his parents and that's all he'll ever need. I'm not saying that he won't have nightmares, because I think we will all have them for some time, but don't take away his victory in overcoming them from him. And he will overcome them. He's got too much of his father in him not to."

And then Lupin slipped his hand up to Snape's face and tilted it towards him. He stroked a gentle finger along an unblemished line of Snape's cheek and, bending, took Snape's mouth with his.

At first he thought Snape would pull away. He was definitely thinking about it. But then his mouth opened a little and Lupin deepened the kiss, finding the taste of the man. With some sadness, Lupin pulled away.

"I'll see to it that all of Alexander's things are moved into your quarters. Good night, Severus."

And he closed the door behind him.

Snape opened the door of the house and the cub went charging past him into the yard. A little too quickly. He hit a patch of ice and lost his balance, legs flying out from under him.

Snape laughed. "I warned you about that this afternoon when you were having so much fun sliding on it."

The cub found his feet, shook his head and then, grinning at his father, came round and went charging again on the ice, this time managing to stay upright.

"Well done!"

It was something that Snape had learnt about Alexander. Nothing was permitted to defeat him. If he failed at something, he tried until he got it right. A trait, it pleased him to realize, the child had gotten from him.

He pulled his heavy cloak more tightly around himself. The night was cold even though it was only late November. There'd already been snow but, up here in the Shetlands, snow was often followed by rain. The latest several inches made it easier and safer for him to follow the cub as he ran around the field smelling for mice under the cover of snow. The first time he had caught one and offered it to his father, Snape had thanked him but refused to take it. Alexander had tossed the small rodent into the air, snapping its back, and then gobbled it up. It had taken Snape aback, this unignorable sign of his son's other self, but now he was getting used to it. It was all part and parcel of being the father of a werewolf.

While the cub expended some of his energy, Snape made his way through the crusted snow to the path that led to the beach.

They'd been here since the third day after the death of Voldemort. Snape had waited until he'd been certain that Alexander was all right and would be able to deal with the aftereffects of that night. On the second day, there had been a joyous but teary reunion with Rhodri, the only Slytherin to visit them - Lupin had snuck him down to the dungeons - who had delighted in telling his adventures of that night, who had trembled on hearing Alexander tell his.

They'd left the brouhaha that was Hogwarts behind. The end of the year had been cancelled, except for those writing O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, and Snape had nothing to do with those: they were Ministry exams. Someone else could be easily found to correct them.

Snape had managed, with some difficulty, to miniaturize all their possessions; Alexander had carefully packed them for travel in a box that he could carry in his arms. Then, leaving by the hidden door to the side garden, they had made their way past the wards to where Snape could apparate them up here to Alexander's home.

It had been with a certain malicious delight that he'd left behind a note that simply stated: `You have no further use for me.'

He hadn't even bothered to sign it.

Freya had been horrified at the sight of them. She'd clucked over Alexander, sent Snape to bed immediately, livid at whomever had allowed him to leave while his hands were still bandaged. She proved to be as good a nurse as Pomfrey, though her remedies were more Nordic.

Alexander revelled in her fussing. He was used to it and it helped him settle after all that had happened. Snape was uncomfortable with the fact that she did so to him.

"It's the child who needs your attentions," he said coldly one evening when she insisted on tucking a blanket over his legs as he sat in his deminiaturized chair by the fire.

She eyed him with a sad shake of her head. "I do this for the child in you. He needs this."

And so he kept his mouth shut.

He was getting used to Freya and her fussing. She was staying with them, keeping an eye on the running of the house, seeing to it that he ate regularly even when he was working in his new laboratory.

When it became obvious to her that he was not making plans to return to Hogwarts, she went to the Elders of the Clan and asked that the house be made larger. Snape needed a room for working on the potions he was creating for them, she told them, a bedroom of his own and a library for his books. He might not be a true member, but he was Alexander's father and as such was part of the Clan.

Freya Hillswick was the image of a benevolent grandmother with her white hair and pink complexion, but she was a respected member of the Hillswick Clan. Though there had been some discussion as to the inclusion of this non-werewolf, Snape came home from a long walk with Alexander one day to find that the Elders had used their particular magic to add a large library to the main house, with an equally large bedroom over it. There was now an enclosed passageway from the kitchen to a new outbuilding that served as his work place.

He'd also had a long talk with Alexander that summer. They'd taken to going for walks so that Snape could get familiar with the local flora, to see if any would be of particular use to him in his work. Freya had given him a list of things to look out for, herbs and plants to restock her medical supplies. The kite was supposedly for Alexander, but Snape also delighted in getting it up.

Alexander had liked Hogwarts, but he wasn't sure he wanted to go back right away.

"There's the school near Lillehammer. We could go take a look at it if you'd prefer that."

Alexander shrugged. "I've seen it. We went for a visit when I was in lower school. They don't have very good Quidditch teams." He looked over at his father. "No Sorting Hat."

Snape was aware that his son was watching him with a bit of a worried expression. "Alexander, did you ask the Hat to place you in Slytherin?"

The boy actually blushed. "Yes. It knew me for what I was. It asked me where I thought I should go and I told it I wanted to be with my father. It didn't respond right away and then it laughed and said why not." He smiled at his father and reached for a still reddened hand. "I'm glad it listened to me."

Snape smiled back. He squeezed his son's hand as tightly as he could bear. His hands were still sensitive and sometimes sore. "So am I."

They walked a little further then Snape asked, "So what would you like to do next year?" He understood that his son's reluctance to return to school had a lot to do with what had happened. They had nearly lost each other and they needed time, both of them, to truly solidify their relationship.

Alexander kicked a stone and looked up at his father. "Couldn't we stay here for the year? You know all the stuff that's covered in second year. You could teach me. That way, when I go back, I would be ready for third year with my friends."

Snape thought for a moment. "All right. But you go back only after we visit and see that you won't have anymore trouble than any other student. I know that Poppy and Rhodri have written to us about all the changes in Slytherin, how those whose families sided with Voldemort are gone, but I won't tolerate anyone making your life more than the usual misery."

Laughing, Alexander had hugged him. "Thank you, papa."

Snape looked over to see the cub chasing a small rolling mound of hard snow. He called, "Alexander!" and the cub came running up to him. Together they went down the path to the beach.

There was ice already building up along the edge, the water far too cold for the cub to go in, retrieving sticks. But they walked along the shore, Alexander investigating things only he could hear or scent.

Funny, thought Snape, how he had found peace here of all places.

He'd only come here originally because he had needed time away from Hogwarts, to deal with the costs of his double life. To decide whether it was a life worth continuing.

Dumbledore must have realized that Snape had needed time away and he'd `allowed' him to leave the school, even though it was summer break, only on the condition that he remain in Britain. Well, the Shetlands were part of Britain, as far away as he could get. He'd still been angry with himself and his choices. He'd known that, by all rights, he should have been in Azkaban but, even though they were so much wider, his limits were still a prison.

He'd met Inga one afternoon when he'd been walking himself into exhaustion, so that he could sleep without taking any potion, without, he'd hoped, any nightmares. She'd offered him another way of finding sleep. He didn't usually have female sexual partners, but she'd also offered him comfort and he'd taken it. At the time, he'd had nothing to offer her in return. When Albus had ordered him back, he'd said as much to her.

She'd touched his face and smiled, thanking him for the gift he had made her. Of his time, she'd added.

Alexander sneezed suddenly and Snape, bending, removed his glove to wipe the icing water off his son's cub nose. "Keep it out of the water, Alexander. It's cold enough to freeze it off and then what kind of cub would you be without a nose? Mind you," he teased dryly, "mice everywhere would probably rejoice."

They were on their way back to the path when the cub suddenly growled deep in his throat. Snape watched as the ridge of hair along the cub's spine rose and he quickly checked the area for an intruder.

Half-way up the path, a fully grown wolf was watching them. A creature bigger than the norm which meant it was a werewolf. Alexander's behaviour indicated that it wasn't a Clan member.

Snape pulled out his wand from the pocket of his heavy cloak, aimed it, ready to use if the adult decided to attack. Alexander took a position to his left, away from the wand yet ready to defend him if necessary.

The wolf gave a soft yowl and the cub responded, questioning. Whatever the wolf answered, the cub suddenly leapt up and began barking happily. He ran towards the wolf, came back and took the end of his father's cloak in his mouth, tugging him along.

Snape knew of only one werewolf who might get that response from his son. "Lupin, is that you?"

The wolf bowed but waited until Snape had lowered the wand to come join them.

"You're far from home," said Snape.

Lupin seemed to agree, then allowed the cub to chase him back and forth along the beach and up the path that Snape had climbed while they had been doing so.

The night was too cold for Snape to remain out much longer without getting chilled. The wolf and the cub ran about playing tag while he made his way back to the house. At the door, he turned to the wolf. "We usually read for some time. Would you care to join us, Remus?"

Inside, Snape hung up his cloak, watching as his son wiped his paws on the thick rug Freya kept at the door. He sat on the bench and replaced his lined boots with house shoes while Lupin awkwardly imitated the cub's actions.

With a grin, Snape led them into the room which was his library and Alexander's classroom.

His sitting room furniture from Hogwarts was set up here. There were three walls of nothing but shelves. The Elders of the Clan had been very impressed with his collection of books. One or two of the professors from Lillehammer had made inquiries as to his willingness to loan them some.

They were thick carpets on the floor, a welcoming fire on the hearth, a lamp casting shadows. Over the mantle hung a banner with the Slytherin snake. Lupin watched as Snape went over to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of brandy. Then he took a couple of bowls from the sideboard and placed them on the floor in front of the fire.

Snape picked up the stone pitcher that Freya, before going to bed, had placed there before the hearth to stay warm. The cub nudged at his arm, urging him to hurry. "Yes, well, if any spills, you'll have to clean it up. I certainly don't want to explain to Freya why the floor needs washing."

The cub sat on his haunches and watched as Snape filled up first one bowl then the other with a creamy white liquid that lightly steamed.

"Wait for our guest," Snape admonished his son as he put the pitcher down.

Lupin was over by the door, as if not knowing what was expected of him. The cub went over and rather rudely nudged him along to one of the bowls.

"It's warm milk flavoured with honey and spices," explained Snape. "Freya's version of hot chocolate."

As the two wolves lapped their respective bowls clean, Snape grabbed a large tapestried pillow and dropped it on the floor just in front of the heavy couch. He picked up a book from the small table next to it and, holding his brandy carefully not to spill any, he sat on the pillow, back against the couch, legs stretched out to the fire.

He opened the book. "Now where were we? Oh, yes, William and the Quidditch match."

At Lupin's questioning look, Snape smiled. "It's the latest William. Rhodri sent it as soon as it was available. He and Alexander are in constant correspondence. His last letters have been full of the new Defence instructor. Seems she was quite horrified to hear about your Challenge course. We had...wondered where you'd gone off to."

Alexander dropped to the floor. With a happy sigh, he lay his head on his father's lap, ready to await the time of Change listening to his father read.

Snape set his glass down within easy reach and opened the book. His free hand rested on his son unless he needed it for a sip of brandy or to turn a page.

As if not that certain of the man's reaction, Lupin lay down at Snape's other side, carefully resting his nose near Snape's leg. And then onto it. And then gradually onto more of it until his entire head rested fully on Snape's leg.

Together, the three of them waited for the moon to set.


	2. Two by Josan

Part Two

Remus Lupin awoke late, as he usually did after a Change when he had nothing to do and nowhere to go. In yet another strange bedroom, except that this one was stranger than most.

The walls were papered with posters of a Quidditch team he didn't recognize and some which featured Harry Potter, the new Seeker for the National team. There was a huge blown-up photo of a young boy he did recognize as Rhodri Ddu, Alexander Hillswick's best friend at Hogwarts, pointing to a young dragon - a Welsh Green, unless he missed his guess - that was nestled in the fork of a tree. A near-by desk was stacked with books that Lupin identified as being part of the second year curriculum at Hogwarts.

He sat up and found a robe waiting for him. Along with a pair of thick woolen socks and what Muggles called a track suit. He dressed hurriedly in the coolness of the room, appreciative of the thickness of the socks which were soled with leather. He was thankful for the extra protection: he hated cold feet. Bad enough having them in the literal sense when he was suddenly plagued with a case in the figurative sense.

Damn, just what the hell was he doing here? He'd thought that with Voldemort's death and the break-up and arrest of the Death Eaters, life would once again be simple. It was anything but!

And now bad enough that he had stupidly forgotten to plan ahead - his clothes and his wand were back in the Village inn room - but he would have the added disadvantage of facing his `host' wearing the man's own clothing.

Well, these couldn't be the boy's. He had to roll up the sleeves of the top so his hands weren't covered and cuff the bottoms in order not to trip on them. The robe dragged on the floor behind him. Boys grew, but not to this extent, certainly not even in the nearly six months since he'd last seen this particular boy.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and discovered a hallway which thankfully led past the bathroom. He took an extra few minutes to wash his face, pass a finger laden with toothpaste over his teeth and, looking into the mirror, wished yet again that he had his own things with him. He badly needed to shave. He felt much more himself if he were clean-shaven, especially after a Change. The less facial hair possible made him feel all that more human.

He stared into his eyes in the mirror and shook his head. It had been Dumbledore's idea to approach the two in wolf form. It had worked but Lupin wondered if a more forthright manner might not have been more honest. The whole thing smacked a little too much of false pretenses.

Still, he was here and he hoped that all would go well. That the situation was not as Dumbledore had explained it to him, but a mere misunderstanding. He would explain the matter calmly and clearly to Snape - who, being a sensible man, would listen to him - and then he would ask his questions and pass on the messages he had.

The stairs led down to another hallway. Heat and aromas beckoned from one end and Lupin, hesitating, decided the aromas were too attractive. They came from a kitchen that had to be half the first floor of the house.

"Ah, Professor, you're awake."

The speaker was a woman of indeterminate age, though her hair was a pure white that she wore braided and crowned around her head. The whiteness of her hair stood out all the more because of the cherry-red robe she was wearing. She was shorter than he was, fine-boned with bright blue eyes and a familiar smile which indicated she must somehow be related to Alexander. She gave the small cauldron a final stir with a long wooden spoon, then moved away from the large black wood stove that filled the far end of the room and came to greet him with a pleasure that Lupin found both calming and puzzling.

"I'm afraid you have the advantage of me, Madam."

She took one of his hands in both of hers and nodded her head. "Indeed I do. I'm Freya Hillswick. Alexander's grandmother was my first cousin. And you are Professor Remus Lupin, who taught Defence Against the Dark Arts last year at Hogwarts." Her voice grew more serious and her grip tighter. "And who put his life on the line to save Alexander when he was kidnapped. See, I know all about you."

Lupin began feeling even more uncomfortable. "Dear me, I hope not. There are some things I would prefer not be public knowledge." But he said it softly, with a reluctant smile.

Freya Hillswick seemed to understand: her tone lightened. "Yes, werewolves do tend to be secretive. Don't we? Now then, coffee. Or would you prefer tea? And will bread and butter do to hold you until lunch which is just minutes away?"

"Coffee? Oh, yes, coffee. Please."

Freya's smile grew wide from Lupin's sincere pleasure at the offer. With a wave of her wand, a stein-sized mug of coffee appeared on the large table that dominated the room. Another wave and a plate of still warm bread with melting butter appeared next to the mug. "There. Now I promise that lunch is on the way. If you're like Alexander, you must be starving."

Lupin's stomach answered before he had the chance: it growled loudly. Freya laughed and another thick slice of buttered bread sat atop the first. "There. No more than fifteen minutes, I promise."

The bread and butter were freshly made and the coffee was nectar: delicious, rich and strong enough to finish waking him up.

When he popped the last crust into his mouth, Freya indicated, with her hand, the front of the house. "If you would be so kind as to inform them that lunch is in a few minutes..."

And so, coffee in hand, Lupin did as she asked.

At the front of the house, to one side, was a large darkened room, with the appearance of a parlour that was used only for special occasions. To the other side was the room in which he had spent a part of the night, listening to Severus Snape read the latest `William, the Terror of Mistleguard School of Wizards and Witches' book to his son in werewolf form.

There was a brightly burning fire in the large fireplace, sunlight pouring in from the tall but narrow windows which slotted the outer walls between bookshelves. To one side of the room, next to a table laden with books, Snape stood beside Alexander, going over some calculation that Lupin decided probably had something to do with Astronomy.

He stood there, watching them.

Yes, the boy had grown some, though he was still shorter than his friends at school, who had also grown these past months. His face was longer, beginning to show hints of what the man would look like. He was concentrating on his work, his face serious. Lupin wondered if it were a slight of the light or just proximity, but the boy seemed to resemble his father far more than he had last year.

Snape was...well, he was Snape. Lupin wondered if this time away from Hogwarts had made him realize just how much he belonged there and not near a small village in some isolated part of the northern isles where he was the only non-werewolf.

Snape straightened. "Yes, I do believe that you're correct now, Alexander. Do remember that you have to factor in the rate of the earth's rotation."

Lupin found himself smiling. Snape's tone was as it always had been when he'd taught: that slightly sarcastic tinge ready to cut someone down. Still, Alexander didn't seem to be bothered by it at all. He just nodded and made a note on a scroll.

Lupin took another sip of coffee, attracting Snape's attention. "Ah, Lupin."

Just that, nothing more. As if Snape had just entered the staff room at Hogwarts and found him there.

Alexander looked up and grinned. "Professor Lupin! I was wondering if you were going to get up at all today." The tease was slight, but there. One werewolf passing comment on another's behaviour.

Lupin nodded to Snape then took a step into the warmth of the room. With a smile to show that he'd taken the comment as it had been meant, "I'm getting old. It takes me longer to recover. Cub." Then he added. "Madam Hillswick wants me to inform you that lunch is just about ready."

"Great, I'm starving." Alexander began rolling up his scrolls and closing his books.

Snape didn't comment on that, but he did scowl a little. "Considering the amount of food you inhaled this morning, I find it uncanny that you are yet again...`starving'."

Again spoken in Snape's usual edged tones, and again the child only smiled at his father.

"One would think that we never feed you, Alexander. And what would the professor think of our treatment of you?"

Alexander made a sound that resembled a giggle. "He wouldn't. I bet he's starving, too."

Lupin sat on the couch, watching the interplay between man and boy. He tried to remember if anyone had ever before dared tease Severus Snape in his hearing. Snape turned to him and asked, voice almost challenging, "And are you? Starving, that is."

Lupin shook his head. "Not any more. Madam Hillswick was kind enough to offer me some bread and butter. To hold me," he added, sharing a grin with Alexander, "until lunch."

Alexander came to sit on the arm of the couch. "It's nice to see you again, Professor Lupin. Rhodri wrote to me and told me that you didn't go back to Hogwarts. He says that they miss you, that the new Defence prof doesn't believe in practical applications in the lower years and has them all writing essays. Rhodri says that he had to produce three whole feet on pixies." Alexander sounded quite aggrieved on his friend's behalf.

"Oh, dear," agreed Lupin. He felt a momentary pang of loss for what could have been and then let it go. Dumbledore had indicated that his place on staff would not be guaranteed when he'd left. But there had been things he'd needed to do that had precluded remaining at Hogwarts. "Yes, I suppose, after last year, that might seem a little dull. So how are your studies coming along?"

"Passable," drawled Snape, quirking an eyebrow at the boy in what had to be a private joke as the boy only grinned back, sliding to sit on the seat of the couch as Snape made himself comfortable in his favourite chair.

Funny, thought Lupin, how much at his ease Snape looked here, surrounded by the things that he'd last seen in Snape's private quarters. He would have thought that the silence alone would have driven him back to Hogwarts. He knew for himself the desolation and isolation of the place, having spent the day of the Change exploring the area. In spite of the fact that it was home to over a Clan of almost two hundred, the place would have driven him batty after a couple of months. He needed to be with people. With nonwerewolves.

"We're actually quite optimistic that Alexander will not embarrass us in comparison with his colleagues when he returns to Hogwarts."

Alexander laughed. "Papa knows that we're already a good two weeks ahead of Rhodri and the others. And it's only November. Rhodri sends me letters with his assignments and other news. So I know that for a fact."

"I know for a fact that you have ink on your hands. You know what Freya's rules are about that. And," Snape added as the boy rose to go wash his hands, "for some reason, there's a small blot of ink near your ear. You might like to deal with that as well."

With a grin, the boy was gone, charging up the stairs towards the bathroom.

Snape winced slightly.

"His energy levels are back far more quickly than mine are these days," Lupin sympathized.

"Is it truly age or are you unwell?"

The concern, slight though it was, startled Lupin. Snape had never before bothered to inquire as to his health after a Change. "No, I'm well, and it truly is age. And the fact that he was born to it and I wasn't." Lupin paused and looked Snape over, making sure the man knew he was doing so. "You look far better than I can remember." He hesitated then forged on, needing to know what he was up against. His mission here suddenly didn't seem so easy. "Life up here seems to suit you."

Snape cocked his head to one side as though considering. "Yes, there are a great many things which suit me these days. But I think the fact that I no longer lead a double life is mainly responsible." He took the time to look Lupin over, in the same manner. "You, on the other hand, look tired. Why aren't you at Hogwarts?"

"Master."

The two men looked to the doorway and the strangely dressed house elf standing there. Lupin was used to seeing them wearing tea towels and pillow cases: this one was wearing a woolen tent-like article with another of those pairs of soled socks on its feet. He couldn't tell if it was male or female.

"Luncheon, Master."

"Thank you, Ketil." Snape stood. "You can answer that question later, Lupin..." the sound of Alexander charging down the stairs made Snape grimace, "...when the starving cub...and the wolf have been fed."

Freya smiled at the two who were more than happy to accept third helpings. Severus had long finished his meal and was sitting back, holding and playing with his glass of wine, watching his son and visitor deal with more food than he himself ate in a day.

The professor worried her a little. He was far too thin for a werewolf. She wondered if it was because he was made, not born a werewolf. When she thought about it, she realized he was the first made-wolf that she'd ever met in person. Still, his appetite seemed good enough. From some of the things Alexander had let drop whenever he'd talked about the man, she wondered if he'd often had the chance to appease his post-Change hunger.

"Severus, dear."

She noted that the professor stopped eating long enough to show some astonishment at what had to be the way she had addressed Alexander's father.

In response, Severus merely changed his focus from Alexander to her.

"Have you prepared a list for the things you wanted me to pick up for you in the Village this afternoon?"

He slipped his free hand into his robe pocket and pulled out a square of parchment. "I've noted that, for some unknown reason, my supply of Fizzle Powder seems to have diminished far sooner than I had foreseen."

Freya thought that Alexander was suddenly very interested in that last potato on his plate. She smiled. Alexander's most recent letter to Rhodri had contained a small packet.

It had taken her a few weeks to get used to Severus's tones of voice. To understand that though she heard the acerbity and severity, Alexander heard the love. She, too, had learnt to listen to the undertones of his voice.

A bell rang from the back entry and Alexander looked relieved. With her permission, he quickly left the table.

"Saved by the mail," she smiled at Severus.

"If Rhodri uses it with the right combination of ingredients and blows up some classroom, a bell will not save either of them."

"And if Rhodri does," Freya stood up, "it will be because some Potions Master thought it appropriate to teach his son, one fine summer day, how to use it with the right combination of ingredients. Will it not?" She dropped a kiss onto Severus's head and enjoyed the slight tinge of pink that he couldn't help whenever she teased and showed her affection for him.

The professor wisely turned his laughter into a not very successful cough. Severus was still a little new to teasing.

Alexander came back grinning at something he was reading in Rhodri's letter to him. "Slytherin beat Gryffindor. 240 to 30. And Madam Hooch is allowing Rhodri to try out for substitute Beater." He shoved his letter into a pocket and handed several to his father, one to her and then took the last over to the stove, raised a lid and dropped it into the fire.

Severus paid no attention to Alexander's behaviour though the professor couldn't hide his surprise. Freya smiled. He had probably had time to recognize the handwriting. She doubted that he would have consigned a letter from Hogwarts' Headmaster to the fire without even opening and reading it.

"Freya, Professor Thorvald has sent a special delivery parcel. Would you be so kind as to sign it out for me at the Apothecary?"

Freya snapped her fingers and a quill appeared. She added that to her list.

"And perhaps Alexander should accompany you."

Alexander looked surprised then pleased. "Really? I thought we were doing History this afternoon?"

Severus raised that eyebrow of his and glared at the boy. "Do try and contain your disappointment. The Goblin War of 1276 will still be waiting for you when you return. No, if Freya has no objections, she may need some extra hands. Professor Lupin's things should be picked up from the Inn."

So, Severus had decided to invite the professor to stay with them. They had discussed the possibility at breakfast while both wolves were still sleeping. Freya found it interesting that Severus still felt any decision that needed to be made about Alexander or the house, or even an activity, should be discussed with her first.

Lupin shook his head. "Not all my things. Though I would like my clothing from the chair by the bed and my boots. Oh, and my wand, which you'll find in one of my boots."

"Please, Professor," she smiled at the man, "there is no reason for you to remain at the Inn. We have room for visitors and we would truly enjoy having you stay with us during your visit."

Lupin shook his head again, looking a little embarrassed. "Thank you, but I wasn't planning a visit. I just need a few minutes with Snape for some private conversation and then I shall be on my way."

Freya waited to see how the man scowling in his chair would handle this.

"Lupin, is there somewhere that you require to be any time soon?" Not allowing the man any time to answer, he continued, "No, I thought not. And, unfortunately, whatever it is you have to say to me will have to wait." He stood up, folding his robe about him in a manner that Freya had come to realize was his way of signalling that a discussion was at an end. "I have a potion in my lab that requires my attention this afternoon. I'm certain that you can find something to read in the library that will occupy your time. No, Alexander, I will not give you an advance on your allowance. I'm certain that you have sufficient in your pockets to purchase enough chocolate and sweets to make yourself ill. However, Freya will see to it that you limit yourself to no more than five sickles, for all of your expenditures."

And with that, Severus left for his laboratory.

Freya smiled at the professor. "Please. Do stay. It truly is no inconvenience. And I'm certain that both Alexander and Severus will enjoy your being here."

Alexander added his knut's worth. "Yes, please, Professor Lupin. You could help me with the Defence assignment that papa's given me."

"And," smiled Lupin, "maybe some help with the Goblin War?"

Alexander's grin was not at all penitent.

Funny how a person's books revealed so much. Though Lupin had spent time in Snape's quarters, especially after he'd been hurt, he hadn't taken the time to examine his bookshelves.

As expected, he found an entire wall dedicated to tomes on potions and, surprisingly, quite a few in foreign languages. But there was also a variety of other topics covered on Snape's shelves, more than sufficient for any home-teaching program that paralleled the one at Hogwarts. And the books weren't new. What were new were the books on lycanthropy, two shelves' worth. Again not all that surprising, considering Snape's new-found interest in the subject. And being the person that he was, Snape would want to become knowledgeable on the matter. Lupin suspected that Snape was now as well read on the topic as he was.

There were histories as well, biographies of wizards and witches who had made their mark in the world. And, apart from a couple of shelves that were decidedly Alexander's - the William books were a give-away - there was no fiction to be found.

Lupin settled on the couch with an old friend, La Transmogrification by Simon de Monfort, dit Loup-garou. Though the original dated from the mid 1200s, this was a more recent edition: 1648.

He was rereading a poem that Monfort maintained he had composed as a werewolf when Snape joined him.

"Potion done?"

Snape nodded as he drew his robe about him and sat down. "We have some time before the others join us. Freya is visiting some friends for a gossip and time usually gets away from her when she does."

Lupin put the book down on the small table by the couch. "Alexander won't get bored?"

"Alexander," drawled Snape, "will be delighted to sit and read, anything to avoid the Goblin War of 1276." Snape tucked his hands into his sleeves. "Lupin. Why are you here? Why aren't you at Hogwarts?"

Lupin grinned. Blunt and to the point. Snape hadn't changed that much.

"I'm not at Hogwarts because there were things that needed to be done. Now that He-Who..."

"Voldemort. He's dead, Lupin. He can be named."

Lupin sighed. "Yes, you're right. Old habits. Now that Voldemort is dead, there were people who needed to be cleared of wrong doing."

"People? Ah, you mean Black."

Lupin hesitated. Snape's feelings about the animagus were very evident. Animosities, like old habits, died hard. But Black was important to him, more so than he'd realized.

"Snape," his tone was a little more blunt than he would have liked, "Black is not guilty of the charges that sent him to Azkaban. Much as the Aurors dislike having their mistakes pointed out to them, they had to be shown that, in this case, mistakes had been made."

"And they took your word for that?"

"No. Not just mine. Several of us petitioned for a reassessment of the facts."

"Us?"

"Yes. Myself with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Albus Dumbledore. And it didn't hurt that among the bodies found at the Circle of Stones was that of Peter Pettigrew. And Sirius even offered to take Veritaserum in their presence and be questioned. That seemed to convince them to listen to us. Much as they disliked it, they finally admitted that things were not as they had once seemed. They wouldn't admit to an error but they were willing to offer Sirius a pardon. Which he accepted, after Harry persuaded him that was the best deal anyone was going to get from the Aurors."

"And where is Black now?"

Lupin hesitated. "With Harry." Well, it wasn't truly a lie. Harry was visiting his godfather, who was at Hogwarts.

"I'm surprised that with Potter on his side, the Aurors proved to be so difficult."

"The Aurors are making very certain that this time no one gets past them. They want to eradicate any possibility of another Dark Lord revival."

"Of course."

Lupin winced at the sarcasm. This was not going to be easy. He wondered why he had thought it would be. "My turn to ask a question."

"I wasn't aware that we were playing a question game, but certainly, ask away."

"Why did you leave Hogwarts the way you did?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I don't understand the question, Lupin. What do you mean `the way I did'?"

Lupin caught himself from rolling his eyes. "I mean, why didn't you stay? I understand your wanting to keep Alexander safe, but your House needed you. And Alexander was perfectly safe at Hogwarts."

Snape's laughter was not humourous. "My House needed me? Really, Lupin, do you think I would have been allowed anywhere near my House? `Guilty until proven innocent.' That's what Dumbledore said, wasn't it?"

Lupin winced. Oh, dear, he had been hoping that Snape hadn't known about that.

Snape's sarcasm was back in full swing. "What? You think that wasn't reported to me? It was one of the first things I was told while I was having my hands treated."

Poppy, thought Lupin.

"No, Lupin. The last place anyone, be they Aurors or parents or Dumbledore, would have allowed me to go was anywhere near Slytherin. And that I had from Dumbledore himself."

Lupin didn't doubt him though Dumbledore did seem to have forgotten to mention that to him.

"Ah, yes, our hallowed Headmaster did take time out from his supervision of the purge of Slytherin House to visit me. And to make it very clear that I was not to involve myself in any manner with my House until all had been cleared."

Lupin braced himself. Snape had given him an opening and he was going to take it. "All. That included you and Alexander."

"I see." Snape grew very still, his tone became contemplative. "You're here...because...you've been asked to come here."

Lupin forced himself not to wriggle under the coldly angry glare of the man staring at him. "Snape. I saw what Alexander did with the letter you received from Dumbledore this morning. Can I assume that all letters from him have suffered the same fate?"

Snape shook his head slightly. "No, you cannot. I opened some of the first. I assumed that the others dealt with the same topic. I thought the lack of further response on my part would make it plain to the Headmaster that I have no intention of returning to Hogwarts, and that he should indeed find himself another instructor for Potions."

Lupin raised an eyebrow. Not exactly the information that Dumbledore had told him the letters contained. "Snape. If you had read the letters, the later ones, you would know that there is no way that Alexander will be permitted to return to Hogwarts until he has been cleared by the Aurors."

Snape was silent for a long minute. "I see. Not because he could have had anything to do with Voldemort, but because of me. Unless, of course, the Aurors have decided that his kidnapping by Malfoy, his submission to the Cruciatus, the threat of his being killed were all a ploy to cover up his involvement."

Lupin winced at the cold dryness of Snape's tone. Damn it, he should have known this was how Snape would react. The man was so bloody paranoid. "No, but..."

"But, of course, you were all so busy testifying on Black's behalf that you couldn't be bothered to do so for my son. What would it have taken? A letter describing what you'd seen and heard? Unless, you yourself think that Alexander was part of Voldemort's plan."

Lupin was more than uncomfortable with the fact that it had been decided that Alexander needed to be cleared before he would be allowed back. A technicality, Dumbledore had assured him, but one that seemed to have acquired far more importance as time had gone by and there'd been no answer from Snape. At least that's what Dumbledore had told him before Lupin had agreed to seek Snape out.

And, damn him! Snape was right about his own lack of support for the boy - he'd been too involved with clearing Sirius Black to think of it. He felt guilty and it made him respond badly to the accusation.

"Bloody hell, Snape! Of course not! But, damn it, your behaviour has cast doubt on the whole situation. Now they insist on the need to question Alexander properly. Why the hell couldn't you have remained in your quarters and waited until they had questioned you?"

"Because, Lupin," Snape's voice dripped disdain, "I was once a Death Eater. And though I was not incarcerated in Azkaban, many thought - and still do think - that I should have been. That I was not truly spying for the `right' side, as Dumbledore maintained, though I'm certain, should he wish to, Dumbledore could make it very clear that I was. Because no matter what I say, under `questioning', even under Veritaserum, I shall not be believed."

Lupin resisted the urge to wriggle, uncomfortable from more than Snape's tone. There was far too much truth in what he was saying, including the part about Dumbledore's lack of support.

"The reason I left Hogwarts was that my usefulness was at an end. I was not permitted to speak for any of my students, and frankly, at the time, I was more concerned for my son and his reaction to an experience that even you noted, as I recall, would have challenged a grown man."

Lupin winced. Damn it, it wasn't as though he'd abandoned Alexander: he was here because of the boy.

Snape slowly rose to his feet. "As for Dumbledore and his letters, had he truly wanted that particular message to get to me, there were other ways of sending it. Through other people. People for whom I have some measure of trust."

His look made it clear to Lupin that he was not one of these.

"For your information, the last letter I opened also insisted that I submit to Interrogation in order to prove my loyalty. My reward for that would be my old position of Potions Master."

Oh, bloody hell, thought Lupin, another thing Dumbledore hadn't mentioned to him.

"And I did respond to that letter, indicating that since I had no interest in the position, there was no need for me to submit to having myself `Interrogated' - which we both know is another word for the torture that I would have to submit myself to in order for the Aurors to admit that they might have been mistaken about me.

"And now you tell me the threat of Interrogation has been passed onto my son. I certainly have no intention of allowing my son to endure any kind of Interrogation that would reflect the Aurors' feelings about myself."

Lupin rose to his feet, angry with himself, with Dumbledore and with Snape. With the whole bloody situation. "No one even mentioned Interrogation in relation to Alexander!"

"To you. What the hell do you think their insistence `on the need to question Alexander properly' means, Lupin? Are you truly that blind?"

Lupin knew he was yelling but he couldn't stop himself. "For crying out loud...do you honestly believe that any of us would allow Alexander..."

"To be tortured? Yes, I do." Snape's tone cut like a knife. "Tell me , Lupin, which do you think would carry more weight with the Aurors: the fact that Alexander is innocent in spite of being my son or Dumbledore's silence on the situation?"

"Bloody hell, Snape..."

"None of you have come out in support of me, have you, Lupin? So why should I expect anyone to do so for my son?"

"It's not like that..."

"Really? So if I went to the Aurors and asked to see the testimony that those in the know have supplied them with in support of myself...or even Alexander... No, there wouldn't be any, would there, Lupin?"

Lupin could feel his frustration beginning to get out of hand. He'd agreed to act as Dumbledore's messenger boy, in hopes of getting the Hogwarts Potions instructor back where he belonged. Not have to walk a tightrope of accusations. So he hadn't thought of the boy back then! Big bloody deal! He'd had other priorities.

"On the other hand, I'm certain that if I asked for the testimony in regards to Sirius Black, there would be scrolls' worth. Tell me, have the two of you gone back to being lovers again?"

Lupin felt the werewolf in him rise. "None of your bloody business, Snape."

Suddenly, Snape was back to what he'd been when Lupin had first been engaged to teach at Hogwarts. His voice dripped disdain. "You have, haven't you? Tell me, Lupin, does your doggy lover know you're here?" Then he stopped a moment before adding, "What has Dumbledore promised you if you manage to persuade me to turn myself over to the tender mercies of the Aurors?"

Only jobs for both of us at Hogwarts and a future, thought Lupin before he snarled, "All you need to know is that Alexander Hillswick will not be permitted to return to Hogwarts until he has been cleared by the Aurors." He allowed himself to feel vindicated: after all, he wasn't the one responsible for this mess. "Perhaps if you hadn't been so concerned with yourself and what you see as our lack of support, he would not have to undergo what you think will be torture at the hands of people who care for the safety and security of our world."

"How righteous of you, Lupin," Snape sneered. "Tell me, have you been submitted to Interrogation? I mean, you were with me...with us...at the Circle of Stones. Has anyone questioned your loyalty? Is that why you aren't at Hogwarts? Because you failed Interrogation?"

Lupin didn't prevent the growl that slipped out of his throat.

Snape ignored it. "No, I thought not. Once more Gryffindors sail smoothly and Slytherins have to prove their... What shall we call it? Their worth? Their right to existence?"

"Severus?" In the doorway of the library, Freya rested her hands on Alexander's shoulders.

Lupin noticed that Snape's eyes never moved off him. Face white, expression as forbidding as it had ever been at Hogwarts, Snape merely said, "It would seem that the professor was correct after all. There is no need for him to stay. He only requires his clothes and the time to change into them. Then he will be leaving."

Snape moved then, purposefully around Lupin, and left the room, going out towards the kitchen.

Lupin plowed his hands through his hair. "Damn it!" He turned, "Alexander, Madam Hillswick, I need you to understand the seriousness of the matter."

Alexander was glaring at him, the wolf in his eyes. Without a word, the boy pulled away from the woman and went charging up the stairs. They both stood silently until his door slammed shut.

"Madam Hillswick..."

She was staring at him coldly. "You'll find your bag on the kitchen table. Ketil will see you out."

"Please. If Alexander is to have any kind of future in our society, he needs..."

"Alexander does not need your kind of society, Professor. Ketil will show you out." And she went after Alexander.

Ketil moved into the doorway, expression disapproving. "Sir may change in the kitchen."

Lupin exhaled loudly. Damn it, why were things associated with Snape always so bloody difficult?

Freya waited until Alexander had calmed down to leave him. She settled him with his assignment on the Goblin War before going to find his father.

Ketil met her in the hallway. "Sir is gone. I stays with Master Alexander."

"Thank you, Ketil. I shall be in the laboratory should you need me."

She opened the door to Snape's laboratory as silently as possible. The room was not filled with shattered glass as she had expected it to be. No, of course not, she chastised herself, not his way of dealing with frustration: he kept things bottled up.

She did expect to see him working away on a potion but found him at a worktable in an unlit corner of the room. He was sitting on a stool, eyes staring into the darkness. The closer she approached, the greater was the sense of pain that she was picking up. Her empathic skills were what made her such a good physician, but she found it especially difficult to sense pain in the ones she loved.

She waited by his side until he finally moved his head enough for her to understand that he knew she was there.

"It seems," his voice was raw with restrained emotions, "that besides fucking up my own life, I have fucked up my son's as well."

She winced at the language and at the self-disgust she heard. Freya carefully placed a hand on Snape's shoulder and, when it was allowed to remain there, she gave a little squeeze. "That's only part of it, isn't it?"

He turned to face her, eyes black with pain. His snort of what was supposed to be laughter was self-deprecating. "I...I thought that maybe he had come...for me."

She moved her hand to his cheek and caressed the lines of pain. "Severus..."

"Yes, I know. What an idiot! As if someone would actually..."

She said nothing, only stepped up and, putting her arms around him, drew him close to her.

She thought he would resist - he nearly pulled away. Then, with a sound that tore through her, he lay his head on her shoulder and wrapped his arms tightly around her, accepting her comfort. He made only that one sound: she wished there had been more, so that he could rid himself of his pain. When he spoke, she could barely make out the words. "Why do I destroy everything I touch?"

Freya Hillswick rested her cheek against Snape's hair and held him as tightly as she could.

There were no more letters from Dumbledore. For several weeks there were also no letters from Rhodri until one arrived, via Rhodri's grandparents with whom he lived.

Snape handed Alexander his letter, who took it up to his room to read, then he opened the one addressed to him.

`Professor Snape,

I doubt that you'll remember me. We met passing in the hallway at Hogwarts when my wife and I went to see what the school was like Parents' Day, before Rhodri started first year.

I've never met Alexander though Rhodri's letters home first year were full of him. As Head of his House, you might remember that Rhodri isn't one much for talking or making friends, until he and your Alexander did the Dark Arts Challenge, and then they became friends.

Now then, I trust in my grandson's good sense: the fact that he likes Alexander is all the proof I need to know that the boy is not a potential Death Eater, if you'll excuse the liberty.

You may have noticed that Rhodri hasn't written Alexander lately. Rhodri was recently summoned to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore questioned him as to his correspondence with your son and then told my boy that it would be, and I quote the old goat, "impolitic at the moment for it to be known that Rhodri was corresponding with Alexander".

The boy had to go look up "impolitic" in a dictionary. He didn't mention it to us immediately but finally, his concern for Alexander made him confide in us.

Rhiannon and I were livid. I wrote to the Headmaster, informing him that we do not appreciate the threat - subtle though it is - being made against our grandson. According to the Headmaster, he has only Rhodri's security and future at heart.

I am writing to tell you that Rhodri will continue corresponding with Alexander, but until this stupidity is over, it will unfortunately have to be through us.

Rhodri has confessed that he taught Alexander Dragon Code, so we have insisted that all his letters be encoded. And he is also spell-sealing them with a Dragon word so that only a Ddu can open them without an explosion. I've been very clear on that point with the Headmaster, that he's doing so on our orders.

Of course, the Headmaster was not pleased, but I did remind him that Rhodri had been cleared by Veritaserum last spring or did he doubt the work of his own Aurors?

We will be pleased to forward Rhodri's letters to Alexander and vice versa. We decided on this course of action because we don't believe Dumbledore would have been so stupid as to put someone in charge of Slytherin who was not trustworthy, no matter what's now being said. Besides, Rhodri quite liked you as a teacher and a Head, and that's good enough for us.

And if there is any way we can be of help, don't hesitate to contact us.

Sincerely,

Evan Ddu  
Head  
Snowdonia Dragon Reserve  
Wales'

Alexander was very quiet after reading Rhodri's letter to him and wouldn't talk about it. He shut himself in his bedroom all that day and when he came out, he went to find Snape in the laboratory, informing him that he had changed his mind, that maybe the school in Lillehammer would be a better choice.

After he left, for the first time in his life, Snape destroyed the contents of an entire worktable.

Freya received a letter from Poppy Pomfrey that pulsed with frustration.

`Freya:

I cannot believe what is going on!

Remus Lupin, it seems, has had an incredible scene with Albus, about his not having been entirely truthful about a "mission" the Headmaster sent him on.

Sirius Black is not pleased that Remus went to visit Severus without telling him about it. It seems old jealousies run deep! It is not totally with surprise that I now understand why Sirius once behaved as he did.

As for Albus, well!

You know what I thought about allowing Aurors anywhere near Slytherin House. And now this thing about Alexander having to undergo the same questioning as have the other members of his House! Albus maintains it's so that no charges of favouritism can be laid at his door.

You know that Fudge has finally been persuaded to retire, I think I mentioned that in my last letter. And we all know who's next in line!

Albus offers as his excuse for this stupidity that he must not be seen to be "soft" on Dark Arts issues.

Truth is that all it would take is a small meeting between Albus and Cranston, the Head of the Auror Department, and this Alexander thing would disappear. Truth is he wants Severus back here at Hogwarts.

He says it's the better to keep an eye on Severus, for his own security, but frankly, Freya, I think it's because, as we both know, Severus is one of the best Potions Masters in the country, and Albus wants him at Hogwarts, not elevating the reputation of some other institution. I am discovering just how fanatical the man is about the school and its reputation.

And I think he's angry that, for the first time, Severus is ignoring his orders. Since he came back from the Death Eaters all those years ago, Severus has never refused Albus anything. And it would seem that our eminent Headmaster is petty enough to be in a snit now that Severus is putting his concerns and obligations ahead of the Headmaster's.

Personally, I think Albus lost Severus when Alexander came into his life. I know that he certainly changed his tone towards the boy once he knew Severus was his father. Frankly, my dear, don't think that Albus appreciates having to play second fiddle to a child. And I think this has become, in his mind, a battle for Severus's loyalty. A battle Albus seems intent on not losing.

I wish he would wake up to the fact that should anything happen to Alexander, he hasn't a snowball's chance in hell of getting Severus back.

OH!

I am so disgusted with all their behaviours! What is it about men and their bloody egos!

Moving on to pleasanter news: I have finished that first draft you wanted on the problems of simultaneous menstruation in a school setting. I've included a section on the "delights" of having some fifty, sixty females all PMSing at the same time.

Take care, Freya, and give my best to Severus and Alexander.

I'm hoping that common sense or calmer minds prevail. Probably a vain hope.

Poppy.'

Snape wasn't surprised that there was another attempt to change his mind, but he was rather taken aback at the person who showed up.

Harry Potter.

Of all people.

He came out of his lab one sunny afternoon to find Alexander practicing Quidditch manoeuvers with someone. Freya was watching, her cherry winter cloak tightly wrapped about her, her cheeks and nose a matching red. She smiled at Snape as he joined her.

"Yes, I know," she said when he realized who was teaching Alexander the proper way of doing the Woollongong Shimmy. "But I think we should listen to what he has to say." Before Snape could respond, she placed a redmittened hand on his arm. "I have an idea. But I want to hear what he has to say before I move on it. Trust me?"

Trust her? Of course he trusted her. And he was so tired of trying to find a way out of this by himself. He looked at her and silently nodded. Together they stood watching Alexander screaming with delight as he zig-zagged through the air.

Harry was old enough to properly appreciate the glass of cognac he held in his hands. He was sitting in a comfortable armchair in Snape's library. His former Potions instructor and Freya Hillswick were on the couch, glasses in hands, waiting for him to begin. Alexander had disappeared into the upper reaches of the house. Harry assumed that he would remain there until called.

"First of all, I want you to know that no one's asked me to come. In fact, no one knows I'm here. I came because I think it's important that all this be cleared up."

He passed his hand through his hair. He'd been with Sirius at Hogwarts: his godfather was in discussions with Dumbledore about taking over the position of Flying Instructor and Quidditch coach when Madam Hooch retired at the end of term. The woman who had taken the Defence position was leaving in the spring: she was pregnant. Remus was in the running to take that position up once again.

When Remus had returned, there had been a screaming battle between the two of them about Remus's trip up here. And that was when he'd learnt about the situation with Alexander and Professor Snape.

And when he'd realized just why Sirius's responses were not particularly sane where Severus Snape was concerned. "He's always wanted you. What did you do to get near him? I don't suppose you bothered telling him we're lovers. I don't see why Albus wants him back here: he should have been the one to spend twelve years in Azkaban, feeding the Dementors!"

Harry took another swallow of the cognac and then rolled the glass between his hands. Neither Professor Snape nor Madam Hillswick commented. They just sat there and let him find his way through his thoughts.

"After Remus came back, I went to the Aurors and offered to provide testimony as to not only what I saw that day in the Circle of Stones, but also about the many times you saved my neck. They listened to me very politely but didn't write anything down, didn't ask me to sign anything." He sighed, another illusion gone, this time about the impartiality of the Aurors. "You're right. For some reason, they want you and, if they have to use Alexander to get you, they will. But they are also using Slytherin. The House is under extra surveillance and all Slytherin students, even though those there have been cleared, are confined to Hogwarts until further notice."

Harry placed his glass down. "I went to see Professor Dumbledore about this but he informed me that I was no longer a student, was not a member of the staff, and that I had other matters better suited to occupy my time."

Actually, what the Headmaster had told him was to mind his own business. That this concerned matters that had nothing to do with him. That since he was already getting the credit for eliminating Voldemort, did he really need any more attention? It had gotten him a position on the National Quidditch team, ahead of other far more worthy candidates. Wasn't that enough?

Harry stared at his hands. He had always respected the Headmaster, soon to be Minister for Magic, but that day, Harry had discovered that he really didn't like him all that much. As he hadn't liked facing the fact that he had been offered the position of second Seeker merely for his publicity value. He fully intended to show them differently.

"I went to Sirius." He sat back in time to see Professor Snape exchange a look with Madam Hillswick. "He knows a lot more than he was willing to admit, at first, about what you were doing for our side. I...I ah...convinced him to go to the Aurors and testify."

What he'd done was threaten to sever ties with his godfather. Alexander, he'd pointed out, was as innocent in all this as Sirius had been. Just because his father was Severus Snape was no reason to punish the boy. Rash, but at the time he'd been disgusted at what was going on and he'd reacted strongly. Maybe too strongly. Only time would tell if Sirius would truly forgive him.

"They listened even less politely than they had to me. They reminded him that he'd been recently pardoned, not exonerated."

"Do you know who's in charge of this investigation into me?"

Harry sighed. Finally, some reaction. "Section Chief Haney Moastifer. Do you know him?"

Snape stared into his glass. "Yes," he admitted, "I know him. We were in Slytherin together. He was a couple of years ahead of me. Until I showed up, he was the Potions whiz. He was...displeased that my marks surpassed his. He was used to being the focus of Professor Blender's attentions - Blender was the Potions instructor at that time - and he disliked the fact that Blender began having more time for me than he had for him."

Snape took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Then there is the fact that one of the potions I created killed his older brother. Moastifer idolized his older brother."

Freya's fingers covered Snape's tightly clenched fist.

Harry grimaced. "Shit! Oh, excuse me, Madam Hillswick. I suppose this was when you were working for Voldemort?"

Snape nodded. "I thought he was using my potions on Muggles, not wizards and witches. I am not using that as an excuse for my behaviour, Potter. At that time, I didn't think Muggles were much more than pests put on this earth to plague us."

Harry was too young still to hide his shocked reaction to that. "Professor!"

Snape shrugged, "I was a child of my time and social class, Potter. And of my House. When I realized that Voldemort was testing my potions not just on Muggles, it made me take a good look at what was happening. Till then, I had been very content to remain in my lab and experiment in any direction that took my fancy. It was unfortunate that, at that time, my fancy was oriented to...anything that Voldemort wanted.

"That day, when I realized just what use my skills were being put to, I took a good look at the situation. And at my behaviour. And I concluded that Muggle or wizard, I didn't like what I was being done, so I went to Dumbledore. I expected to be punished for my role in the death of several witches and wizards; instead Dumbledore persuaded the then Minister for Magic and her Head of the Auror Department that having an inside man was more important.

"Moastifer probably had access to my file when he made Section Chief. He would have found out my role in his brother's death."

Harry ran his hands through his hair. This time, he caught the profanity before it slipped out. He stood and paced around the room to try and get his thoughts into focus.

He'd known that Professor Snape had had a past with Voldemort, that he was using it to their benefit. That much Dumbledore had let slip, after the Triwizard Tournament. And since then he'd learnt that though Voldemort had known Snape was spying on him, the Professor had usually managed to return with information that had given them the advantage more than once. And like everyone else in the school at the time, he knew that Snape's `accident' had been the result of an encounter with Voldemort.

Damn, why was everything shades of grey! What the hell was wrong with black and white!

Maybe this was what they meant by growing up.

"Look, it seems I have some influence with the Media. And if Remus and Sirius come out and make public what they know..."

"That won't change anything," said Snape. "The only thing that will appease Moastifer, and those who feel as he does, is my incarceration in Azkaban, and preferably a kiss from the Dementors."

Harry couldn't prevent the wince.

"If it were only me, only my future, I might very well agree to being Interrogated..."

Harry scowled. "It wouldn't be an Interrogation, it would be a meeting to answer questions."

"Yes, I understand that's what they're calling it these days. Either way, it would probably end in my death. But no matter what, the Aurors insist on questioning Alexander. First. And that I will not allow."

Harry dropped back in his chair, discouraged. "So what will he do? If Hogwarts won't accept him, neither will Beauxbatons or Durmstrang. What's he going to do? Be the conductor on the Knight Bus?"

"Master Potter." Freya Hillswick smiled at him, a gentle encouraging smile. "I agree with you. It would be a pity if Alexander did not get to finish his studies, all the more if he didn't do so at his father's school. Alexander loves Hogwarts, not just because it is his father's school. He has friends in Slytherin House, and I think in other Houses as well. And among the staff. The problem lies with the authorities who stand between him and his desire to attend Hogwarts.

"It would seem that the only solution to all this is to remove the cloud of suspicion that hangs over Severus's head. Once that matter has been cleared up, I think that all will be well. To that effect, may I ask you to present the following proposal to Headmaster Dumbledore, soon to be Minister for Magic. In fact, if you could wait until he has assumed that position, which I believe will be in less than two weeks?"

Harry nodded. He looked at Snape, who sat watching Madam Hillswick's face with no discernable emotion.

"Both Alexander and Severus will present themselves to whichever team of Aurors the Minister selects." She clamped her hand hard on Snape's to keep him still. He stared hard at her but kept quiet. "However, we shall select the location and time. The location will be here in the Village, at the Council House. You may indicate to the selected committee that they may bring along whatever security people they desire. The time will be the fourth week in May, May 24th to be precise, at one in the afternoon, our time. Tell them this is a one time offer. It is non-negotiable."

She patted Snape's clenched hand with her free one. "Now then, perhaps I shall see to supper and Alexander can be called down to discuss the latest Quidditch season with Master Potter."

Snape put his affairs in order.

He contacted Gringotts and arranged that should they not hear from him by the last stroke of midnight beginning May 25th, the entire contents of his vault were to be moved to the one he was opening for his son. He went through his papers and destroyed anything he didn't wish to fall into either Alexander's hands or those of the Aurors'. He focused on Alexander, to the exclusion of his lab work, continuing with his son's lessons as if Alexander would be joining his classmates come September.

He wrote to Evan Ddu and informed him of what was happening, asking him, if it were possible, without putting Rhodri into any danger, for the friendship between the two boys to continue, no matter what happened on the 24th of May. He was taken aback when Ddu offered to come stand by him.

Freya shook her head. "No. Please, Severus, thank him but tell him no."

He nodded and wrote to Evan Ddu.

"You haven't asked me anything about the 24th," she mentioned that evening as they sat in the library.

Alexander had gone to bed and Snape was going through his books, removing any loose papers he might have stored between their pages, inspecting them and either throwing them into the fire or putting them back where he had found them. He fully intended to pack all his books before the meeting and to hide them so that Alexander would be the only one to find them. He was not going to leave them to be confiscated by Aurors who would probably consign them to fire merely because he had owned them.

"You asked me to trust you and I am."

"I love you, Severus Snape. You do know that, I trust."

He paused, staring into a book, not seeing what was written there.

She came to stand by him. "I loved Inga's mother, Gudrid. Before she died, I promised her I would love and protect Inga and hers."

Snape didn't move. "Alexander is hers, not I."

"Through Alexander, you are hers. I promise you that Alexander will be safe and well, even after his meeting with the Aurors. As you will be."

Snape turned to face her. "I believe you for Alexander. As for myself..." He shrugged. "Maybe this way is best."

Freya Hillswick had the momentary image of a large bonfire with everyone who had taught Severus Snape he was not deserving of love burning in it.

The 24th of May dawned clear and bright.

Snape knew this because he observed the dawn from Inga's rock on the beach. He had dressed himself with care, as if laying himself out; he wore his best suit and newest robe.

He would miss this land. Azkaban, should he end up there alive enough to feed the Dementors, would take this away from him. The beauty of it. The alone-ness of it. Maybe if he stored enough of it in his memory, he might remember a little while longer than a few days.

Even Dementors couldn't destroy all the memories he had of Alexander, but the pleasure of them would provide the hideous guards with a feast.

He knew that Freya believed all would end well, but that wasn't his experience. He trusted her to protect Alexander and that was as much as he could hope for. He knew that Dumbledore was angry with him but he hoped that the new Minister for Magic would not take his displeasure out on his child. Evan Ddu had written that if anything happened, he was more than willing to take Alexander under his protection. Not an empty gesture. As Head of the Welsh Dragon Reserve, Evan Ddu had some fair pull in certain Departments. Unfortunately, his connections were not to any Ministry which could be of much help to Snape, but those he did have would allow him to prove difficult should Alexander need his help.

Snape waited until he knew the others were up and about before going in to pretend to eat breakfast.

Freya Hillswick knew that no matter what she said, Snape was certain that this was his last day with Alexander. She left them alone. Snape was surprisingly calm and Alexander, who had awakened nervous and fidgety, picked that up quickly. When it came time to leave for the Village, she found them in the library, Snape sitting on the couch with Alexander's head on his lap while he read one of the William books aloud to him.

The Village was not particularly large. It was home to only some two hundred members of the Hillswick Clan. At first, they had been wary of him, but his connection to Freya and Alexander Hillswick had allowed him entry into their society. Once they'd realized that the Wolfsbane Potion was his, they had been more open in welcoming him. Not something he was much used to. He was not a very sociable member of the community: he came to the Village only rarely, preferring to rely on Freya and Alexander to bring back what he needed. But when he did come, he was always welcomed with smiles at the small local businesses and was greeted in passing by those on its streets.

Snape finally noticed there were more people about in the Village than usual, many of whom he couldn't ever remember having seen before. Even Alexander seemed surprised, though it seemed that some of the newcomers knew him: they nodded as they walked by.

Freya said nothing, only leading them not to the Council House but to the school house where the young learned basic skills until they were old enough to move on to other institutions. There were several people waiting there for them. Snape recognized four of them as Elders of the Clan.

So this was why Freya had been certain that Alexander would be well and safe: his Clan had turned out to support him.

Snape looked about the room and noticed the local Potions Maker, Bera Hillswick, a young witch whom he'd taught to make the Wolfsbane Potion. She nodded at him, smiled at Alexander.

One of the Elders, Bera's father, came forward. "They arrived this morning," he snorted. "They've spent the day inspecting the Village and the premises, assuring themselves that all was as it should be. As if it would be otherwise."

His outright disdain of the Aurors told Snape that Moastifer's people had somehow managed to insult the Villagers.

"It is time," said another of the Elders, a witch who was older than Freya. "Come."

Snape, with a far too silent Alexander at his side, stepped out of the school house. Freya walked at the boy's other side. Snape was part-way to the Council House when he realized that not only were the people from the school house accompanying them, but others were joining them as well. By the time they arrived at the doors of the Council House, some two dozen men and women entered along with them.

Once inside, two of the Elders took up places just behind Snape while the others spread themselves about the meeting hall. Freya stood with Alexander.

At the front was a table with five chairs around it, placed facing the rest of the room. Each chair was filled with a dour-faced Auror.

To one side was a large wooden armchair, like that of a judge. The man who sat in it was tall, thin, with a pinched face and a closed expression. Snape recognized Haney Moastifer right away. He hadn't changed much since graduation, only gotten older.

Not one of the Aurors rose at the presence of the people who entered.

"What is this," sneered Moastifer, "your bodyguard? I recognize some of the Elders of the Village, Snape. Werewolves all. Your new crowd of supporters?"

Freya Hillswick spoke for them. "Alexander Hillswick is a werewolf, a member of this Clan. The Elders are here to verify that he is treated as he should be."

Moastifer looked at his men. His voice dripped with scorn. "As he should be, indeed."

"Excellent," said a new voice. "Then there won't be any problems."

Snape felt rather than heard Freya's sigh of relief.

Those from the Village turned and either bowed or curtseyed to the newcomer.

Snape didn't recognize the speaker who had entered the hall. He was a tall, strongly built wizard of about Dumbledore's age. Eyes were a startling grey and, though he was smiling at Freya and Alexander, his eyes were cold. His shoulder-length hair was a pale grey though his short beard was more blond with hints of red. His robes were richly decorated, gold on black velvet.

"Freya, dear," he kissed her on the cheek.

She shook her head. "I should have known," she said low enough so that only those nearby would hear. "Still need to make an appearance."

He smiled at her. "Alexander." And hugged the boy tightly to him.

"Bestefar," murmured Alexander, clutching his grandfather.

"It'll be all right," the man spoke softly, bending over as though to protect the boy. "Trust me."

Snape caught Freya's eye: she only smiled at him.

Moastifer called attention back to himself. He was loud and in an obviously snitty mood. "And just who do you think you are, breaking into a special meeting like this? All of you. I only require the presence of the Death Eater and his son. The rest of you, leave. Now."

The newcomer shook his head. "I don't think so. Do allow me to introduce myself. I am Oddvar Brekke. President of the International Federation of Warlocks. I am here to witness your questioning of my grandson and his father."

Snape was stunned. Brekke was Alexander's grandfather?

The Aurors at the table looked at each other and then slowly, one by one, they stood. The tension in the room shifted from the people in its centre to those at the front. Oddvar Brekke approached Moastifer and waited until the man reluctantly found his feet.

"I believe you are the Section Chief in charge of this meeting. May I see your credentials?"

The assembled Aurors gasped softly. Moastifer went white.

"Surely," drawled Brekke, "you did not think that you would be allowed to question anyone without presenting them. After all, we do need to know that you are indeed whom you profess yourself to be."

Dear Merlin, thought Snape.

And with that, the President of the IFOW sat himself down in the Section Head's chair, and lazily crossed one leg over the other.

"You do have them, have you not?'

With gritted teeth, Moastifer held his hand out and one of the Aurors at the table hurriedly went through a file. He rushed over to present the document. Brekke waited until Moastifer pulled it out of his assistant's hand and presented it to him.

Brekke made a show of inspecting the document. Snape was very aware that even if he wanted, the President could not override this authority, but he certainly had the right and the power of his position to participate, should he wish. And it was obvious that he wished.

Eyes on the document, Brekke drawled, "I assume by your surprise at my appearance that you did not know of Alexander's relationship to myself. May I say that indicates incomplete preparation on your part, Section Chief Mousetifer."

"Moastifer," corrected the Section Chief, through gritted teeth. He turned to nearest Auror at the table. "I want to know why no one picked this up in the background check." In his anger, he forgot to whisper.

"Very well," Brekke handed the authority back to the man, "you may begin."

"These people..."

"These people are here at my behest, Section Chief. I merely want to prove to them that, werewolves though they be, they have nothing to fear from Aurors, who seek only the truth. Oh, before you commence... Finnbogi!"

A small, rabbity looking wizard came rushing past Snape to stand at the President's side. With a nod to Brekke, he loudly cleared his throat then pulled a long scroll out of one robe pocket, an inkwell and a quill from another. At some mumbled words, the quill dipped itself in the inkwell, the scroll began unrolling itself while the quill hovered over the parchment, ready for action.

"Finnbogi will see to it that all words are transcribed. Just in case an appeal should be made to the International Court."

Moastifer went red.

Snape felt a tight part of himself ease: Alexander would be safe. His grandfather was seeing to that. Brekke did not need to specify that the request for appeal could come from either side. However, no court would disallow testimony of this kind. Certainly not from someone of Brekke's position.

"I believe you wished to begin with my grandson." Brekke gestured with a hand. "Please do so."

Brekke could see that the meeting did not go how Moustifer had planned.

First of all, Alexander refused to take any Veritaserum. A sure sign of guilt, in normal situations. But this situation was anything but normal.

Before Moustifer had a chance to attack the child for his refusal, the President interrupted. "Alexander. Why don't you want to take the Veritaserum?"

The boy looked at his father then his grandfather. "Because papa didn't make it."

The President nodded. "I see. Section Chief, may I inquire? Who fabricated this potion?"

Moustifer really should learn to control his face better, Brekke noted. The man was already gnashing his teeth.

"It comes out of our laboratory, Mr. President. It's the one we use all the time."

Alexander grunted a small noise that caused Brekke to wonder if he had picked that skill up from his father.

"Yes, Alexander?"

"A dozen Slytherins vomited for days after taking their potion. Three others went into severe convulsions and another into a coma all after ingesting their potion. It took several weeks of being under Madam Pomfrey's care for all of them to recover."

Brekke was impressed: so the boy had his sources within Hogwarts, did he!

"Mr. President..."

Brekke ignored Moustifer. "So, if the Veritaserum came from your father's lab, you would take it?"

Alexander managed to look insulted on his father's behalf. "Of course."

"I protest," Moastifer was red-faced. "Are we to assume that ..."

"Yes, yes. I get your point. Definitely not a solution. Well, Alexander, what do you suggest? The Section Chief needs some kind of reassurance that you are telling the truth."

Alexander drew himself up straight. "I do not lie."

Brekke refused to challenge that. He knew boys. He knew that Alexander wouldn't see it that way, but he had most certainly had occasion to work the truth to his advantage. Yes, Freya was biting her lip.

"Well, Alexander," Brekke's tone was very grandfatherly, "of course I believe you, but that's because I know you. The Section Chief does not."

Alexander nodded. "I swear I will tell the truth. Wolf's honour."

"Very well, Alexander. You may continue, Section Chief."

Moustifer took too much delight in heaping the scorn he felt this deserved. "Not well at all, Mr. President. You can't seriously expect us to take the word of a..."

The room growled. Even Brekke was startled by the reaction of the spectators.

Brekke stopped being the grandfather and became the President. He was pleased to see it gave Moustifer pause.

"I see that your research is more than incomplete: it is nonexistent. You have come into werewolf territory unprepared, Section Chief Moustifer. Is this the normal level of competence for the famous Aurors of Great Britain? Finnbogi! Explain just how insulting the Section Chief has inadvertently - I do sincerely hope it was inadvertent - how insulting he has been."

Finnbogi stepped away from the quill and scroll which continued their work and, clearing his throat, recited: "In amongst Werewolf Clans, an oath taken on a Wolf's Honour is sacrosanct. Any violation is punishable by death. Said death will be at the teeth and claws of his peers whose duty it will be to tear him apart." And then he stepped back to his scroll.

President Brekke nodded at Section Chief Moustifer. "Pray continue."

Moustifer did.

He began by indicating that there must have been a nefarious reason for his attending Hogwarts instead of the institution werewolves usually attended. Had his mother often been in contact with other Death Eaters?

"Section Chief, my daughter is dead. She is not here to answer to this preposterous claim of yours. Pray keep your accusations to the living who can."

Had Hillswick known that his father was a Death Eater? No? Did he think his mother would have left him in the care of someone so dangerous if she had known?

"Again, Section Chief, supposition on your part. We cannot ask my daughter what her intentions were other than the obvious; that Alexander should attend his father's school."

Moustifer challenged the boy's knowledge and use of Petificus Totalus.

Brekke sighed loudly as once more he interrupted. "Section Chief, I taught him that particular spell. And others as well. The boy had ability, so why not? Moreover, here in the North, we tend to teach defensive manoeuvers to our young early.

"The land here can be hostile, as you may know, Section Chief. And we have often learnt, to our peril, that strangers from other regions are far less tolerant of our tribal units. A Petrificus safeguards our children and doesn't eliminate the stranger."

Moustifer tried his best to upset the boy, to get him to confess that there had been no kidnapping by Draco Malfoy; that he had gone willingly with the man.

Brekke sat quietly as he realized that his grandson could take care of himself. Unlike the Section Chief, he remained calm, though now and then, his face went white, his voice rose, and he had to take a deep breath find his calm again.

Once, Snape took a step forward and Brekke wondered if the man was going to lose his. But after sharing a look with Alexander, Snape stepped back. Brekke found that he was growing more impressed with his grandson by the minute, especially when it became obvious that Moustifer was finding his own presence restricting. He had no doubt that the Auror had to physically restrain himself from hitting the boy, that he would have enjoyed doing so, if only to push the father.

Moustifer was beginning to lose control. He was now in Alexander's face, continually screaming at him, challenging him on what he had seen that famous night, calling the boy's `interpretations' into question. The boy held firm in his account in spite of the spray of saliva wetting his face. Before Snape reached his limit of tolerance, Brekke did.

"Section Chief, Alexander may not take offense at your tone, but please note that I do. Hostility and belligerence will not help us clear up this matter. The boy has sworn that he is telling the truth. You might remember that. I can assure you that we here present all do. The purpose of this questioning was so Alexander could respond to your concerns about what happened. He has done so. With great patience, and forbearance, I would like to add. Unless, of course, you have an ulterior agenda for this meeting. If so, you might like to reconsider. This is not a Court of Law, per se, but we could certainly move it to one."

Finnbogi reminded everyone of his presence with a slight clearing of his throat. Moustifer's eyes went to the scroll and its quill.

He acknowledged defeat in this matter.

"The boy may go."

Brekke folded his hands on his stomach. "Are you certain that you have done with Alexander? That you have no more questions to ask him?"

"He may leave," repeated Moustifer.

Alexander didn't move.

"So, there will be no problem with his attending Hogwarts come September."

Moustifer shook his head. That wasn't enough for Brekke. In his most presidential voice, he intoned, "You, as Section Chief of the Department of Aurors, are completely satisfied that Alexander Hillswick, son of Inga Hillswick and of Severus Snape, is not involved nor associated in any manner, way or form with the forces of the wizard known as Voldemort."

The formalized statement seemed to be yet another surprise. Moustifer turned to face the President. "The boy is absolutely cleared. We thank him for his co-operation and wish him the best at Hogwarts and in his chosen career."

The President accepted that. "Very well. Alexander, would you please leave us. I believe your cousins are waiting for you."

Alexander nodded. Face as calm as it had been throughout the interrogation, he turned to leave. But once his back was to the Aurors, his face crumbled and he rushed over to his father.

Snape bent and hugged his son tightly. "I love you so much," he spoke softly but with pride. Brekke could only agree: the boy was something to be proud of.

Alexander clung tightly, his face buried against Snape's chest. "Love you, too," he finally murmured.

Freya stepped up to them. "Alexander."

Snape pulled away. "Go now."

"Before I continue," snarled Moastifer, "is there anything I should know about your relationship with this man, Snape, the Death Eater?"

The President sat back and shook his head thoughtfully. "No. Other than he is the father of my grandson, but you know that now. However, these people shall remain, because as the father of a member of this Clan, the Clan has an interest in the proceedings."

"And your presence is to ensure..." Moastifer asked, less politely than he should have.

Brekke's smile was cold. "My presence is as a member of a different yet sister Werewolf Clan which also has a definite interest in these proceedings. Ah, that surprises you, Section Chief. It shouldn't. Many of us Northlanders are either members of a Clan or affiliated with one. You people really do need to find yourselves better researchers."

Oddvar Brekke sat back and watched as the Section Chief took out his frustrations from the earlier interrogation on the man who had fathered his much-loved grandson. He had been able to mitigate the interrogation on his grandson's behalf: there was very little he could do at the moment on behalf of the boy's father, and he thought that Snape was very aware of the fact. Still, he had no intention of leaving the man to the Aurors' so obvious intent of destroying him.

He had loved his daughter, almost as much as he had loved her mother. When the Fever had taken Gudrid and Inga had become so ill, he had allowed Freya Hillswick to take the child back to her mother's people and a life less filled with stress and strains. She'd even assumed her mother's Clan name as a way of remaining out of the Brekke very public eye.

Once and a while, when he could fit it in, he would come and spend a few days, but the isolation and the non-existent political and social life got to him very quickly. Still, in an environment that would have seen the death of him, his daughter not only lived but had gradually become stronger. Not well, but stronger.

And then there had been the news that she had gotten pregnant and refused to name the man, though he was certain that Freya had known more than she had been willing to say. He knew that only her skills as a physician had allowed Alexander to be born and for Inga to live years longer than had been predicted.

Before she'd died, his daughter had sent him a letter, explaining who Alexander's father was and why she was sending her son to a British school, rather than the one most werewolves attended. The school in Lillehammer might not have the reputation of the larger European schools, but a werewolf could attend openly and get a more than decent education.

He loved Alexander, as he did all his grandchildren. And following Inga's request, he had allowed the boy and the man time to solidify their relationship. Besides, Freya was still involved and nothing much could get past her. He knew; he'd tried often enough, with very little success.

Moustifer was back to yelling again. He now knew where Alexander had gotten his stoicism. Snape barely blinked at the man's accusations and blatant innuendo. He waited until Moustifer stopped screaming and then he answered, voice calm... No, expressionless really.

And he didn't like Moustifer any more than the Auror liked him. But he was better at hiding it. Only his eyes gave him away.

Brekke made a mental note to keep an eye on Moustifer. Not that he could do much, British Aurors were a British responsibility. But how had the man ever made Section Chief with that personality?

And did Moustifer seriously believe the crap he was spouting at Snape? Maybe he should offer the Aurors access to his own files on Severus Snape. They filled a very large box in his office.

Yes, the man had done things that he shouldn't have, but, in the long run, all that had been important to Brekke was that his grandson loved his father and was loved back in return. And that Freya had no problem backing Severus Snape.

He had been much impressed with the way Alexander had handled Moustifer's interrogation. What was he now? Twelve? No, thirteen. Took after the Hillswicks in stature and in form. Definitely after his father in that little sneer he seemed to have mastered. In temper and determination. In courage as well. Inga had faced death with dignity, but the boy, from the reports he'd read, had spat in its face.

Severus Snape was no slouch in that area as well. Moustifer was growing more and more red in the face, literally spitting out accusations and `proofs' of Snape's role as an agent for the Dark Forces. Questioning him about his role in the murder of innocent witches and wizards, mocking or pouring disdain on Snape's calm, unemotional answers. Now and then, he looked to those listening, as though inviting them to join him in his mockery. They didn't.

The only signs Alexander had shown of the tension he had been under during Moustifer's idiotic interrogation had been whitened fists, a clenched jaw in a colourless face. Apart from the occasional tremor - of anger, not fear - his voice had remained, on the whole, quite controlled.

Now the President listened as the man accused of horrible crimes as a Death Eater answered his interrogator in a monotone that was driving the man to even greater flights of accusation. He sighed softly. Did the Aurors not think that people other than themselves knew the true facts of the situation?

Brekke found that Snape did not back away from the facts. He admitted that yes, he had been responsible for the death of many Muggles and several witches and wizards. No, he had not known that his potions were being used on his kind. No, he had not used any kind of coercion on Dumbledore thereby forcing the man to speak out for him at the original trials.

Brekke noticed that Snape did not indicate that Moustifer should go to Dumbledore himself for confirmation. So, the report that the two men were no longer allies was true. He focused his attention totally on Snape.

No, Snape had not supervised the death of any wizard at Voldemort's request. No, he could not prove that he had not stood over Voldemort's victims, mocking their last moments. He was not guilty of such behaviour, not even with Muggles.

He admitted to the guilt of being blind, self-centred, arrogant, for thinking that his skills separated him from all that was going on, for his belief that what had been going on in the world about him had nothing whatsoever to do with him. And, in spite of the Section Chief's comments, he had not expected to `get away with murder'.

That got Brekke's attention. Did Moustifer really think that particular accusation was going to win the spectators over to his side? Werewolves? Here, in the North, it was not unheard of werewolves being involuntarily used as the instruments of death. A long-living uncle standing between you and his fortune? Pity, dear old uncle was wandering about during a full moon when he encountered a werewolf.

The Clan would understand Snape far better than his own people seemed to.

Brekke looked at Elder Hillswick and saw that, in fact, Moustifer's line of questioning was probably backfiring on the man. Yes, the Elder was taking a step closer to Snape. Closer in support, not away in disgust.

Finnbogi approached Brekke and surreptitiously passed a note to him all the while making it obvious he was showing him the time.

Yes, time was growing to be a problem. Well, Moustifer had had more than enough fun with his prey: it was time to put an end to it. Damn it, he would have to remember never to play poker with Snape. The man's expression hadn't once changed under the barrage of attacks to his honesty, his intelligence, his integrity. Even, as Moustifer grew desperate, his sexuality.

"Section Chief Moustifer."

"MOASTIFER!" screamed the Section Chief.

Brekke ignored his tone. "This is getting us nowhere, Section Chief. Finnbogi!"

His assistant's nose was twitching furiously, a sure sign that Finnbogi was reaching the limit of his own patience.

"Finnbogi, I believe that you have sworn testimony that supports much of Professor Snape's version of events. Please present them to the Section Chief."

Moastifer quickly scanned all the documentation, noting the signatures were those of Rhodri Ddu, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black.

"We have already heard this testimony, and we have concluded that it is not reliable," Moustifer said with obvious relish.

Brekke made a show of shrugging. "Interesting. It was considered to be reliable enough by Chief Justice Hecabate de Moirois, of the International Court."

Moastifer had trouble breathing.

"The International Court feels there are no grounds for perse...for prosecution. On this testimony of your very own compatriots, Section Chief. Tell me, does Great Britain feel that her laws are so very different from those of the international community, that she can prosecute and imprison a man whom the rest of the wizard world feels is, if not exonerated, at least corroborated?"

One of the Aurors at the table began closing his files and stacking them, a sure sign that, to his mind, this session was over.

Moustifer had gone from red to white. He glared at the President. "That bastard is not getting away with murder!" And he whipped out his wand and pointed it at Snape.

No sooner done than it flew out of his hand and into Finnbogi's, who took great pleasure in snapping it in half with a flip of his wand, which he then pointed at the Section Chief.

Moustifer's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

Brekke's voice cut a cold slash at the Aurors. "Among his many duties, Finnbogi has taken on that of my personal security. There have been the occasional threats to my life and he feels since he is always by my side he can easily intervene should it be necessary. It is standard procedure."

Oddvar Brekke stood up, every inch a president.

"I think that I should also mention that, at this time of the year, the full moon rises early - actually, in just a few minutes - and that none of you is of werewolf blood. You might find it convenient to disapparate from just outside the side entrance. My men have cordoned off a small area that should remain relatively safe for all of you for some time."

One of the older Aurors, who had sat motionless at the table throughout the afternoon, now rose to his feet. "Mr. President, my name is MacBeth. I represent the legal department of the Aurors. No, you may not interrupt, Moastifer; we will deal with you later. As you say, Mr. President, the moon will rise soon and it is obvious that we must be away. However, we still have the problem of what to do with Professor Snape here in Great Britain."

There was a loud rumble in the room. The man ignored it to concentrate his focus on the President.

"I agree that there may not be solid grounds for incarceration, but we are not persuaded that, with the professor's knowledge of and/or his ties to the Dark Forces, he is completely innocent. These have been, as you well know, Mr. President, difficult times for us here. Our people were the ones who suffered greatly at the hands of Death Eaters and, though I do accept that the Professor was sometimes working on our side, many others do not and will not, no matter what proof is presented to them. We could go through a public trial, fully exonerate the Professor, and still I believe that the general public would think that we have been duped.

"We have limited resources, Mr. President. We cannot guarantee the safety of Professor Snape. His son will be attending Hogwarts and, I'm sure that you will agree, the security there is second to none. Alexander Hillswick will have nothing to worry about. But the professor is another matter."

"And your suggestion, Under-Head MacBeth?" Brekke smiled politically, "Yes, I know who you are: my people do research thoroughly."

Finnbogi's nod was quite condescending.

"My suggestion is that the Professor must be seen to have been punished, even if it be only in the public mind. To that effect, I pronounce Banishment on him. To this section of the Islands. To the Village of Hillswick and the property belonging to Alexander Hillswick."

Brekke paused then nodded and faced his grandson's father. "Professor Severus Snape, is this acceptable to you?" Then, to be honest, he added, "If you wish, there is enough testimony that you could bring suit in the International Court in hopes of exonerating yourself completely."

He knew Snape had been expecting Azkaban, and Brekke didn't trust for Alexander's security if he decided to force the issue. He hoped Snape would see it that way as well.

Snape did. "I accept the Pronouncement of Banishment to this section of the territory of Great Britain, to the Village of Hillswick and the property belonging to Alexander Hillswick."

Under-Minister Macbeth nodded. "Should you ever be discovered in any other part of Britain, you will be immediately arrested and sent to Azkaban."

Snape's chin rose slightly. "I understand."

MacBeth signalled to one of the Aurors to escort the Section Chief to the door. The others quickly prepared to leave.

At the doorway, Macbeth turned to face Snape. "You seem to have forgotten, Professor, that your son is a werewolf through his mother, not you. Of all the people who will be left in this room when the moon rises, in..." he glanced at his fob, "less than 30 seconds, it would seem that you are the only human."

And, with a smirk, he closed the door behind him.

The werewolves present had been disrobing during that final pronouncement. Brekke approached Snape and stood by him, watching as transformations took place.

Bera Hillswick, the Potion Maker for the community smiled, at them both. "If you stay where you are, the Elders will form an escort for you, Professor Snape. You are perfectly safe: everyone in this room has taken their Wolfsbane Potion."

Snape nodded to her. That's all he could manage, he was suddenly that exhausted.

Brekke slipped his hand under Snape's arm. "I know that you must have many questions, but they will have to wait until we get back to the house. Shall we go find Freya and the boy?"

At the front entrance, Brekke stopped to look around at the gathering of werewolves and their own. Snape, his escort lowly growling, stood next to him. Brekke shook his head. "You would think that they would have at least known that there is always a gathering of the Clan at this time of the year."

"Freya knew this?" Snape was trying to find his son among the younger wolves.

Brekke snorted. "Is there anything that Freya doesn't know?"

Snape turned his attention to the man next to him. Brekke grinned at him. "The Hillswick females are something quite extraordinary, Severus. Don't ever forget that. Ah, Freya, were your ears burning?"

Freya shook her head as if discouraged. "Oddvar, my ears are always burning when you're around." She went to hug Snape. "Severus?"

"Banishment. Here."

Freya rose on tiptoe and kissed his cold, white cheek.

A young wolf came looping over. "Alexander," said Brekke, "ah, there you are. Now we can all go back to the house. Unless you'd rather stay with your cousins?"

One of the younger cubs who had been deemed too young for the Wolfsbane slipped under Snape's guards and suddenly sprang at him, jaws open wide, low growl from his throat. Before anyone could deal with the cub, Alexander grabbed him by the neck and shook him until Brekke thought that the cub's neck would break. Snape put a quick end to a possible tragedy.

"Alexander! Stop that! Immediately!"

And he did. Reluctantly. He allowed the now whimpering cub to drop to the ground where Bera Hillswick quickly scooped him up, soothing him, taking him away from the others.

"Severus," Freya patted the man on his shoulder, "perhaps you and Alexander should disapparate home first."

"Into the yard, Severus," added Brekke. "My people will be around the house, for security reasons. And they will have placed an anti-apparation spell on the house itself."

Snape nodded. He stooped, clumsily picked up his son in his arms, and disapparated.

"Well?"

Oddvar Brekke shrugged. "You were right. He is a good man."

"Of course, I was right." Freya Hillswick smirked. "I am always right." And disapparated.

Laughing, Brekke signalled his men, and followed her.

They apparated in the front yard of the house. Snape and Alexander were still there. Snape was kneeling, his arms tightly wrapped around his son's chest, his face buried in the shoulder of the young wolf who was whimpering.

Brekke watched as Freya quickly took command. She ordered them into the kitchen where Ketil was already filling the table with foods of all kinds. Some of his own favourites, he noticed. All the thanks he knew he would get from Freya Hillswick for the strings he had pulled so that de Moirois would act quickly on the evidence.

Alexander voraciously devoured a bowl of thick stew, looking up every now and then to make certain that his father was sitting in his chair. Freya had handed Snape a glass of aquavita. He'd gone a little bleary-eyed at the strength of the drink, but it seemed to be exactly what he'd needed: colour began coming back into his face and he looked less strained. Freya lost her worried look when he slowly began eating.

Stomach full, the young wolf lay next to his father, placed his head on one of the man's feet and drowsed while the adults finished their meal. Brekke noticed that Snape's hand often slipped down to touch the wolf, offering comfort and reassurance. Probably, he thought, for both of them.

After a while, Freya somehow convinced Alexander that he would be more comfortable sleeping in his own bed. Knowing that his own day was not over, Snape agreed with her and Alexander, head and tail drooping, followed Freya up the stairs to his bedroom.

"I think we would be more comfortable in the library," said Snape, leading the way.

Brekke spent some minutes walking around the room, exploring the contents of the shelves, pausing here and there to read the spines of books. At the table, he picked up a scroll with what he recognized as Alexander's handwriting. He read a few inches then looked up at the man watching him from his chair by the fire. "Did you help him with this?"

Snape shook his head. "I suggested the topic, directed him to the proper shelf, and the rest is all his."

Brekke read a few more inches of Alexander's analysis of the causes of the origins of conflict between giants and wizards. "He's trying hard for balance. Equal blame." He scanned the rest of it quickly. "Good conclusion. His suggestions for what should have been the course of action are quite sound." He looked up. "Very politic."

Snape nodded. "Yes. He seems to have a good grasp of the nuances of political action. Until today, I never knew where that came from. I must apologize..."

"Whatever for?" Brekke placed the scroll down and made himself comfortable on the couch. He liked this room, he decided, and he thought he was going to like the man it reflected.

"I never asked Alexander for information about his family. I assumed that the Clan here was his only one."

Brekke smiled. "I doubt very much that had you asked Alexander he would have thought to mention my election to the post of President. To him, I am only Bestefar. As for Freya, had she thought it important, she would have mentioned it. As you can see, Freya is no more impressed by my accomplishments than Alexander would be." Brekke shook his head. "Very humbling. But then the Hillswick women are not easily impressed. Gudrid would never allow me to get away with what she called my pompous political manner." He smiled, remembering.

Snape waited a moment then forged into the matter. "You will have questions you want answered."

Brekke took a moment to stroke his beard. "Very few. Severus, before we begin, there is one thing I do want to make clear to you. This afternoon, I was not waiting for a dramatic moment to announce de Moirois's findings. Finnbogi had literally just handed me her decision moments before I did. Freya has accused me of enjoying my moment of drama but it really was that close."

Snape accepted that with a nod. "I am still astonished that you went to such extreme measures for someone you don't know."

"First of all, I have to confess there is little about you that I don't know."

Snape's head went back on that, but he remained silent.

"Finnbogi, in his sleep, could run circles around the average research department. I may have trusted my daughter's assessment of you, but I confirmed it for myself.

"Secondly, they weren't just my measures. Freya suggested to Harry Potter that he should gather all the testimonies that he could and to forward them to her. She sent them on to me and those, in conjunction with all the reports I have read on you, made the decision an easy one."

"I find that hard to believe. However, I owe them all my thanks and will say so." Snape looked at his folded hands. "I hope you will understand, but I need to know: what payment do you expect to receive from me for this support on your part?"

Brekke's initial reaction was that of insult and then he quickly remembered Freya and her assessment of the man. That and a few of the facts that he had garnered from Finnbogi's reports made sense of Snape's expectations.

He shook his head. "It is I who was repaying a debt."

Snape's confusion was all too obvious. Brekke continued. "Alexander. You are responsible for the child who brought untold pleasure to my child. Who added good years to her life. You are the father of my grandson, Severus. Your love for the boy was all the motivation that I needed."

Then he smiled, not his political smile, but the one he kept for family and friends. "Mind you, there is one little favour I would like."

Snape's stiffening told him that he would have to tread carefully with his teasing. "I am having a birthday celebration towards the end of August. My one hundred and thirty-fifth. The whole family, as well as selected guests, are gathering for the occasion. It would be a pleasure to have you and Alexander attend."

Snape relaxed. "Alexander, I am certain, would be delighted to attend. Perhaps Freya could accompany him?"

"Not you?"

Snape's eyebrows rose. "You seem to have forgotten that only hours ago I was placed under Banishment."

Brekke scoffed. "Yes, when you're in this jurisdiction. But there is nothing preventing you from travelling."

"I doubt," Snape's natural sarcasm returned with his comfort level, "that the Ministry for Travel will be forthcoming with any documents I should require for that purpose."

Brekke actually laughed. "By Odin! Severus, your child's grandfather is the President of the International Federation of Warlocks. Finnbogi will see that you are assigned something under international auspices."

Freya entered the room, smiling at the two men. "It's good to hear laughter in this room again. It's been rather dour these past weeks."

"Is Alexander all right?"

Brekke noted the concern. His daughter had chosen well, he thought.

"Sound asleep. It took several chapters of William and a lullaby that I used to sing to him when he was a baby, but he'll be all right. He was far more worried about you than he was for himself. The fact that you're here is really all that he needs." She sat next to Brekke on the couch. He reached over and took one of her hands in his.

"So, have you decided yet to marry me, Freya of the Bright Eyes?"

Freya couldn't fail to notice Severus's surprise. She pulled her hand sharply away from the man who was grinning at her. "Old goat! Aren't you content with this wife? What is she, your seventh or eighth?"

"Alas!" Brekke lay a hand on his chest over his heart. "I seem to find myself wife-less yet again."

"Oddvar! Again?" She sighed loudly. "I don't understand how someone who is as politically astute as you, whose negotiating skills are legendary, can't keep a wife."

"Probably because she's not a Hillswick." He addressed Snape. "If Gudrid had not died, I believe I would still be wed to her."

"Gudrid," explained Freya, settling in for a cosy bit of family teasing, "was already Wife Number Three."

Brekke nodded. "Yes, but I truly think she would have been the last one. She never ever let me get away with anything. Like you."

Freya scoffed. "I am nothing like Gudrid."

Brekke laughed. "No, indeed you are not. Compared to her, you are an invisible wallflower, submissive and totally compliant to and respectful of the wishes of men."

Snape's shout of laughter caught both their attentions.

Brekke grinned. "Ah, so I see that I, too, have not been the only one to suffer the subtle manipulations of a Hillswick female!" He shared a look of mutual commiseration and understanding with Snape.

Freya merely smiled.

Severus Snape looked at the crowd that had dispersed after Oddvar Brekke's speech of thanks and shook his head.

True to his word, three days after the meeting with the Aurors that had ended with the Pronouncement of Banishment, an owl had arrived with documents from Finnbogi that would allow him to travel anywhere he wanted, as long as where he wanted was not any place in Great Britain other than his home and the Village.

Alexander had been delighted at the thought of joining this branch of his mother's family for a birthday celebration. Snape spied him, broomstick in hand, on the way to an unpeopled part of the garden, the better to show off his Quidditch skills to some cousins.

For several days after the meeting with the Aurors, Alexander had barely allowed him out of his sight. He seemed to have regressed in age and in his need for reassurance. Snape spent hours with his son cuddled next to him, reading to him from whatever book was at hand. He had no trouble admitting - but only to himself - that he too needed to sense his son's presence, needed the comfort of his touch, even his scent. Gradually, they had returned to normal, but the bonds between them had been made all that much stronger.

Snape had gotten a nice letter from Evan Ddu, congratulating him on having `vanquished the bastards', and offering to help prepare Alexander for the coming year.

`He's going to need to equip himself and, if you'll allow, if you send him to us for a few days before the start of the school term, Rhiannon and I will be delighted to escort him to Diagon Alley. Rhodri would love seeing him again and we would love having him.

I understand that you can't join us, but perhaps Alexander's Freya could. I know that Rhiannon wouldn't mind having another woman along for the trip. She complains that all Rhodri and I do is talk Quidditch, visit Fortescue's, and refuse to pop our heads into Madam Malkin's. As though any sane man would be caught dead there for any time absolutely longer than to try on a new robe. Have you ever seen what that woman carries in her back room? Actually, if you can convince Freya to come, you'll be doing me a great favour.

And I don't think you need worry about your boy's reception at school. Rhodri has already sent owls to most of Slytherin that Alexander is coming back. Seems their Quidditch captain is looking forward to the arrival of his potential whiz Seeker. Other than that one game against Gryffindor last term, they haven't exactly been on a winning streak.'

So Alexander would be leaving a few days early, going to the Welsh Dragon Reserve in the Snowdon District with Freya and, from there, to school.

A burst of laughter got his attention. Freya was holding court with several women of varying ages: the group consisted of Oddvar's ex-wives. Snape assumed that Freya was representing Gudrid. There were eight of them in all. Snape shook his head. He couldn't fathom that many ex-mates getting along so well together. He couldn't even fathom that many wives, period. Mind, from the tone of the laughter and the occasional comment he caught, he thought that it was a good thing that Oddvar was occupied with wellwishers.

What fascinated him was that they were all professional women in their own right. Politicians, doctors, lawyers, diplomats, professors of specialized studies. Two were from non-Scandinavian countries. All were beautiful, even those closer in age to Oddvar than to his children. The man seemed equally drawn to intelligence as well as beauty.

The women were dressed in the bright, colourful robes that seemed to be the norm up here, in the land of the midnight sun. Freya's cherry red was nothing out of the ordinary. One of the women was garbed in a burnt orange, another in canary yellow. One was wearing a robe of such brilliant lime green that looking at it for any length of time made him nauseous.

Even the men tended to favour colours rather than the somber or dark tones of Britain. His was the only black robe in the gathering. Alexander had been gifted with a set of formal robes in Slytherin green by Freya and he was already wearing the summer version with pride. Snape wondered if he would be allowed to wear them at Hogwarts or if that would be considered `impolitic'.

One of the Light Elves, who had assumed the role of servers for the feast, came by and offered to take his now empty glass. Snape nodded and hesitated but accepted another of the ice-cold, colourless vodka. He really shouldn't be drinking any more: he had never been much of a drinker. But he wasn't used to gatherings like this and he felt uncomfortable. As usual, he didn't fit in and, though he was used to that, this time, it bothered him more than he cared to admit.

The drink went down smoothly, far too smoothly. He accepted a third one.

And then a fourth. And then a fifth.

Minerva McGonagall questioned her own actions as she strode off the school grounds in the black of night. The new term was only three days away and she really had far too much to do to be out on what she supposed would prove to be a wild-goose chase.

Still, the note that had been delivered to her office by special owl that afternoon had been both specific - `Midnight tonight at the place where you found me that May day.' - and mysterious enough - unsigned - for her to be out here, making her way to a site on the path to Hogsmeade instead of clearing some of the Hogwarts paperwork.

She arrived at the specified location and waited, wand in hand just in case she would need it. Five minutes, she said to herself, and then she'd go back. Really, all those forms wouldn't fill themselves. She only wished they would. No one had mentioned the amount of paperwork when she'd agreed to...

"Headmistress."

McGonagall turned to the sound of the voice. In the bare visibility of the night, she could just make out the form of the speaker.

"You've taken quite a chance, haven't you, Severus, that I haven't alerted the authorities."

With a shrug, Snape slipped the hood of his cloak back then moved close enough that she could make out his face.

"I trusted in your sense of fair play. Was I wrong, Minerva?"

She shook her head. "I assumed that if you were willing to come here, it must have something to do with Alexander."

He nodded. "I have been assured by the Aurors..."

She wanted to wince at the bitterness that laden his tone but merely nodded her understanding for the purpose of this meeting.

"...that Alexander is no longer on their list of suspects. That he is safe. From them. My son has been looking forward to his return to school, and I merely wish to assure myself that he will not be treated differently than any other student. That he will not be made to pay for this feud which seems to have developed between myself and the former headmaster."

McGonagall's tone was no less biting than his. "There is no need for concern on your part. Alexander is merely another of the students here. Other than the necessary accommodation, he will receive no special treatment."

She expected him to snarl back, not smile at her. She didn't think that Severus Snape had ever smiled at her, not as one of her students, certainly not as a fellow staff member.

"I knew, but I find that, like any doting father, I sometimes need reassurance that my child will be well treated."

She shook her head in amazement. "You've changed."

He shrugged. "We all change. It comes with time and age. May I continue playing the worried parent and ask if someone has yet been selected to head Slytherin?"

"Yes, you may. I shall be Head of Slytherin House, for this year at least."

"As well as Headmistress? That's a heavy load. Will you have time for the House, time that it needs?"

"I sense concern for more than your child, Severus."

He shrugged again. "Are you saying that the Gryffindors were not your children, Minerva? You defended them as any lioness would her cubs. Gryffindor cubs."

She wanted to bristle at the implied challenge to her loyalties. But she understood him: Slytherin House had been his for so long. "Now I defend my Slytherin cubs."

"Do you?"

She nodded. "In my position as Headmistress, I have made it very clear that I will tolerate no aspersions cast onto any House here at Hogwarts. Most especially Slytherin. By anyone, either inside Hogwarts or outside it. All privileges have been returned to the House. It will not be treated any differently from the other three."

He nodded. "Minerva," his voice almost conciliatory, "please take the time to listen to them. No matter what the Aurors may have told you, most of them are not evil. Just different. Misfits. I could have told them which were which, if they had bothered to ask."

That point had indeed bothered her, when she had been told - much later - that he had been denied access to his House, before he'd left. She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. "Yes. I know. I will take good care of your children, Severus, all of them."

He placed his hand on hers a moment then removed it. "If you have any trouble with Alexander, if there is any need, please don't hesitate to contact me. I will not come down; Freya Hillswick will."

McGonagall's eyebrows rose high. "Poppy's friend Freya? She was here recently. Poppy gave her the grand tour."

Snape smiled again, stunning her as much the second time as it had the first. "Frankly I'm not surprised at anything Freya does." He stepped back from her. "Thank you for coming, Headmistress."

There was a sound from behind her. She checked to see that they were still alone and when she turned back, she was truly alone.


	3. Three by Josan

Part Three

Eirik Brekke, known professionally as Northlander, leaned his shoulder against an apple tree and, from the shade under its leaves, watched the newest member of the family wander along the edges of the gathering.

The official part of the celebration of his father's one hundred thirty-fifth birthday was over. The feast had been eaten, the presents opened, the speech of thanks received with much laughter and applause. Eirik took a sip of his drink. One thing he had to give the old man was his ease in orchestrating a response from a crowd.

And it was quite a crowd. Eight wives - with Freya representing Gudrid, twenty-two children, those old enough to have them with their various partners. So far only sixteen grandchildren though there were already three great-grandchildren. Oddvar had begun his collection of wives relatively late for a wizard: he'd married the First at seventy-two. Eirik was by the Second whom he'd wed at ninety-three.

Not to mention all the cousins and former in-laws with whom Oddvar was still on friendly terms. It was a family joke that the reason their father was so good at international diplomacy was that he had had so much practice in his own house.

And that was just family. In addition, since this was a formal celebration, there were the usual diplomatic representatives, local politicians and business people. Not to mention those who used family connections to grab a chance of being seen in such company or to work the crowd.

The sound of high-pitched squeals got Eirik's attention. At the far end of the garden, away from the crowd, a boy was doing tricks on a broomstick. Eirik grinned and shook his head. Alexander. Who would have thought that a child with the ever-delicate Inga for a mother would be such a daredevil. He noticed that Freya was also watching, but the fact that she turned back to the group composed of his father's former wives, known affectionately - and sometimes not - as the Coven, meant she was not concerned for her chick.

Eirik had been fond of his half-sister Inga. He had visited her often while she'd been alive, usually when he'd needed quiet and calm, uncritical support. He had loved her mother, Gudrid. Of all the Coven, she had been the one who had genuinely cared for the other offsprings of her husband. She had also been the only one to die on him. Eirik wondered if Gudrid really would still have been married to his father as Oddvar was fond of saying. She certainly hadn't put up with any of his shenanigans. Rather like Freya.

Another Light Elf came by with a tray of drinks. Eirik shook his head but noticed that Severus Snape accepted another. What was that, his third? And he certainly was putting it back rather quickly. From the slight shudder, Eirik assumed that the man was not used to the drink. Really, someone might have warned him about the potency of vodka.

Family rumour had it that the man was brilliant, moody and in some kind of difficulty with his Ministry of Magic. That last was of no concern to Eirik: he was the only one in the family not into politics of any kind. Snape wasn't handsome, not by a long shot, but there was a certain something about him. Eirik smiled. He could see Inga being attracted to that something.

An interesting man, thought Eirik as he watched Snape try harder to slip into the shadows, one that he wanted to get to know better. And now a fourth drink. Probably needed fortifying. Obviously not used to the gregariousness of Brekke gatherings. Nor the colour. Eirik found himself smiling. A raven among the parrots. He liked that: it would make a good painting.

As he watched Snape pick up his fifth drink in less than an hour, Eirik shook his head. It was time to find out just how interesting Severus Snape could be.

Snape knew that he was drunk. That he should stop drinking. He couldn't remember how many of these drinks he had actually consumed. A sure sign that he had had far too many.

But Alexander was busy enjoying himself with his cousins, and needed that experience much more than he needed to see how maudlin his father was feeling. And Freya, for once, seemed to be occupied with matters that did not concern him.

And damn it! Why couldn't he get drunk? He tried to remember the last time he'd allowed himself to become this intoxicated. He couldn't. And it wasn't because of the drink. It was because it had probably been so long ago that, even sober, he wouldn't have been able to recall the occasion.

And the stuff was cold. And the day was hot.

And he was tired.

He raised the glass to his mouth. It took him a moment to realize that it wasn't coming. A long-fingered hand had stopped its ascent.

"I think you've had enough, Severus."

Snape followed the hand up an arm clad in teal, further up to a face that was smiling at him.

He squinted as he thought. "Eirik Brekke." He was proud that his voice was still firm and clear.

The man smiled at him. "Impressive. We were only introduced the once this morning in the breakfast crowd."

Snape continued to stare.

Hard to forget the man. He was strangely beautiful.

Of his height. His age.

With skin that glowed honey as only blonds have. Not that his hair was yellow. It was so pale that, at first glance, it had looked white. But if one glanced often enough - and yes, he had - one noticed that it was in fact tow-blond. Much, much purer in colour than Lucius Malfoy's had been. He'd worn it loose at breakfast. It had hung far below his shoulders. Now he wore it in a thick braid that was encased in a dark leather sheath.

Eyes were an eerie yellowish brown. More yellow than brown. Wolf eyes. Eyes that were watching him out of a face that his hand itched to touch. Long. High Slavic cheek-bones. Nose that was almost too long and fine for the face. Balanced out by a thin-lipped mouth and a determined chin with the hint of a dimple.

"Why don't we go find you something else to drink? Coffee, maybe?"

Snape allowed the man to remove the glass from his hand. "Are you a werewolf, too?"

"No."

There was laughter in the voice now. Probably not something he should have said aloud.

"But my great-grandfather was one."

"You look as though you should be." Why couldn't he get his tongue to stop spouting these things?

"Really?"

There was that grin again. Snape didn't think that what he'd said was funny. The voice was having an entirely different effect on him. It was husky, rough, as though the man had a sore throat. But since no one had commented on it at breakfast, Snape assumed these were the man's usual tones. He found that he wanted to hear more of them.

"I'm sorry. I seem to be drunk."

"Not used to drinking, are you?"

Snape shook his head. "I never get drunk. I can't afford to. But it's hot and I'm tired and it no longer seems to matter."

Eirik Brekke smiled at him and the warmth from the alcohol in his stomach dropped to his groin.

"Perhaps we should go in then."

Eirik took Snape to his rooms. Not an assumption on his part. He might not be a werewolf, but his nose was wolf enough to smell the rising level of pheremones. He knew when he was wanted.

But much as he was wanted by this man, it was he who did all the leading. The one who initiated the first kiss. Who slowly stripped the clothing, all black but for the pristine white shirt and the underwear, off the man. Who removed his own quickly.

He thought at first it might be because Snape was so drunk, but it finally dawned on him that the awkwardness of his movements, his hesitations were not due solely to the vodka he had consumed. Eirik was sure of it when he used his wand to cast a small, only slightly sobering spell on the man. He wanted the man functional but not resistant.

Severus Snape, it seemed, did not have much experience with love-making.

Eirik smiled at the man who lay on his back, watching him with eyes that were waiting. Waiting for what? To be told what was expected of him?

Eirik allowed his smile to grow wicked. Snape, he was pleased to note, swallowed loudly.

He took his time exploring the long body. It was slim. Wiry. With ropey rather than developed arms and legs. The musculature of a man who lived on his nerves.

He passed his hand over the lightly furred chest. He liked the contrast with his own body: sparse with only a light dusting of almost invisible hair. He set his fingertips to teasing the small brown nipples that appreciated the attention. Sensitive. He liked that. His own responded to touch and he liked a lover who could give him the benefit of his or her - he had never been particular as to the gender of his lovers - own experience.

He trailed over the dark line of hair that began at the sternum and thickened as it approached the apex of Snape's thighs, where a nicely sized cock was beginning to awaken. He skimmed a hand along Snape's hipbone and got another reaction: a small sound of almost hunger. He looked up and caught the hint of wariness - resignation? - in those eyes that were what had drawn his attention to the man in the first place. Dark, almost black eyes, matte, that revealed nothing about the man but that he knew how to guard his spirit-self.

The alcohol had allowed some of that defence to waver and Eirik was slightly bothered by the man's bracing. Could the man be expecting pain? If he were, he would be soundly disappointed. Pain was not part of his repertoire.

Eyes holding, he skimmed the pale skin up the rib cage, to the shoulder, over the chest, around the nipples and back down, this time his hand barely touching. Snape's body rose in complaint though he himself said nothing.

Eirik knelt between the man's legs - they quickly spread, allowing him more room - and leaned forward, resting his groin against the man's, the rest of his weight on his elbows. With slow intensity, he took possession of Snape's mouth. As his tongue invaded, tasting, exploring, he rubbed his hips against Snape's. And swallowed the man's gasped reaction to the move. And did it again, this time rotating slightly. Louder reaction. He smiled and did it again.

His reward was the feel of Snape's hands on his back, at first hesitant and then with more confidence, exploring and raising their own fire. When Snape's hands slipped to Eirik's arse and gripped his buttocks as Snape's hips rose to grind themselves against his, Eirik knew that some barrier had been overcome.

From that point on, Snape became more of an active participant. Still awkward as though never certain what was allowable, but more than pleasing in his enthusiasm.

And more than adequate in his skills after Eirik rolled them over and Snape's mouth slipped to Eirik's cock and balls.

Adequate? Fuck! A Master!

Snape certainly knew what he was doing in that area. No awkwardness or hesitation here.

Eirik didn't think he'd ever had a lover who was this good with his mouth. Who knew the right way of sucking on a cock, tonguing it, using his teeth so that the pleasure/pain line wasn't crossed. Swallowing it with a move that Eirik thought would blow his head off. And then retreating, the bastard! Still, he forgave Snape the moment a hot, wet mouth closed over one of his balls. He knew that they had never before had such diligent attention.

He dug his hands into the dark hair at his groin and held on, offering encouragement with the grunts which were all he could get out of his throat.

And then nothing. A coolness where the air hit his saliva-slicked skin. He gasped, raising himself up on his elbows, and looked down to find that Snape had pulled away to turn onto his knees and offer up his arse.

Eirik reached under the pillow where he had stored a small jar of unguent and coated his now throbbing cock. He scooped some more out and, kneeling between Snape's legs, leaned over, placing a hand on Snape's hip - why was the man bracing himself? - for support and carefully prepped him for penetration.

Snape looked over his shoulder at him, an unasked question on his face.

Eirik grinned down at him and slipped another finger into the man's tight arsehole. Seemed that the man not only didn't usually drink: he didn't seem to have much of a sex life, in spite of the skilled mouth. Eirik angled his fingers and was pleased with the closing eyes, the sharp gasp. So pleased that he did so again. With a moan, Snape's head dropped onto his folded arms and he pushed his hips back into Eirik's direction.

Another barrier coming down, thought Eirik, as he removed his fingers then placed the head of his cock at the entrance of Snape's arsehole.

Again with the bracing! What the...

He leaned over, and placed a kiss on the boney end of Snape's shoulder. He pushed his cock in enough for it to have penetrated the sphincter, and then he slipped his hands under Snape's chest. "Sit up." And when he pulled on Snape's chest, sitting back on his own heels, Snape came along. "When you're comfortable. Take whatever time you need."

And again the questioning look over a shoulder.

Eyes holding, Eirik bit his lower lip as Snape shifted his weight back so that his arse slowly descended on Eirik's cock, inch by inch. He used his hands as encouragement, fingers playing gently with what, by now for him, would be almost too sensitive nipples, moving to stroke that long neck as Snape's head tilted back, eyes closed as he focused on impaling himself.

Eirik leaned his head against Snape's, used a hand to angle the other's so that he could capture the open mouth. Snape's hands rose to clasp his. Eirik trailed his tongue along the raspy skin of a cheek to trace the whirls of the ear closest to his mouth. "Ride me," he ordered. And his hands caressed their way down to Snape's rampant cock.

It was a bit awkward, but then first times usually were. It wasn't Eirik's preferred position but it was one that gave Snape control, something that he intuitively knew the man needed almost as much as an orgasm.

Eirik played Snape's cock as he liked to play with himself. It seemed fairly successful. Snape came first, with a shout, arse muscles clenching about Eirik's cock with each spurt of cum. One spasm was so strong that Eirik had time to picture their being found, cock frozen in arse, before he let the sensations take over and he came with his own shout.

Sometime later, Eirik had been the one to untangle them, clean them up. Snape hadn't been exaggerating his exhaustion: he had slipped into sleep as soon as his head had hit the pillow.

Eirik snoozed, head resting on Snape's shoulder. He didn't like lovers disappearing on him, and he had the feeling this one would be out the door as soon as he woke.

What roused him was not Snape, but an aroma that at first tickled his nose. When it penetrated his senses, when he finally identified it, he opened his eyes and stared at the portrait he had done of himself at twenty. Cocky, assured, and certain that the world belonged to him.

Dear, dear, he silently told his younger self. So it was true after all.

He smiled and raised his head. Severus Snape was sound asleep, head tilted to one side, hair hiding the part of his face not buried in the soft pillow.

With gentle fingertips, Eirik slowly brushed the hair off Snape's face and examined it as he would if he were going to paint it. And he would. Probably several times over, he thought.

It was a strong face. A sharp one. It had character. The nose was too big for it, what with that small spreading of the bridge which indicated that it had probably been broken, more than once. The mouth was good. The lips were thinner than his, but that lower one, slightly fuller than the upper, was enticingly kissable.

But he didn't look relaxed. There was a small furrow between the eyebrows as though whatever dream he was having was not pleasant.

He would have to see to that, Eirik thought, as he leaned over and inhaled deeply.

He smiled as he shook his head, in rueful acceptance.

Oh, yes!

Snape awoke feeling sluggish. There was a weight on his chest and he wondered if he had the energy to open his eyes to see what it could be. Couldn't be anything dangerous, he thought: there was no sense of that, no pain.

A stream of air breezed across his lips.

He opened his eyes - wolf eyes were watching him - and remembered.

Eirik Brekke crossed his arms on Snape's chest and dropped his chin onto them. He smiled.

Snape felt his world drop away from him. How the bloody hell could he have been so stupid!

One pale, almost invisible eyebrow rose high. "Sex is supposed to be relaxing, Severus. A pleasant activity. It seems to have the opposite effect on you. Perhaps we should try again. Our next session may have the desired effect."

Snape swallowed hard. He could feel himself responding to the erotic tones of that voice. He tromped hard on those feelings.

His actions took Brekke by surprise. Snape shoved suddenly against the man's shoulder and rolled himself out of the bed at the same time.

Brekke looked stunned, then he laughed. "Hey! It's all right."

But it wasn't.

Snape looked around and found his clothing scattered on the floor. He pushed aside the memories of what had happened for them to be all over the floor in that way, and quickly found his robe and in its pocket, his wand. A quick spell and he was dressed.

"Severus?" Brekke propped himself up in bed.

Snape forced himself to look at the man. Yes, he had wanted him. Yes, he had now had him. Damn him, he wanted him again. Stretched out like that, eyes looking him over as though he wanted to...to eat him.

"Severus, what's wrong?"

Snape shook his head, destroying the image of erotic pleasure in his mind. He turned and stepped to the door.

He paused, hand on the door knob. "There is only one thing I would like to know. Who is this going to be reported to, the Aurors or Finnbogi?"

The one time he had allowed himself to find his way to another's bed at Hogwarts, the oh, so sympathetic visiting instructor of Arithmacy had reported every detail to Dumbledore, who had casually mentioned he had no objections to this affair continuing as long as Snape remembered his priorities. He had never again forgotten.

Until now.

Alexander was the only good thing that had ever happened to him. How would Oddvar Brekke, with all his power, respond to the news that his grandson's father had fucked one of his sons?

"Reported? Severus, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Smoothly said, with enough sincerity that he might have been moved to believe if he hadn't known better. "I need to know because the person you report to will affect Alexander." He scoffed. Who was he kidding? Either way, there was a good chance that this afternoon's...romp might cost him his son. He always ended up paying hard for his imprudent behaviour.

He heard the slither of sheets that told him Brekke had come off the bed and could sense the man now standing behind him.

"Severus, I truly have no idea what you're talking about. I am not reporting to anyone. What we did here does not affect Alexander in any way. Wolf's honour."

Snape stiffened. He looked over his shoulder at the man watching him with confusion. "But then, as you pointed out this afternoon, you are not a werewolf. That oath means nothing."

And he opened the door, stepped out avoiding the hand that was reaching out for him, and closed it behind him.

Freya Hillswick was livid.

Even though she wore her usual smile as she made her way past those still celebrating, her eyes were blazing with anger. With a commanding gesture of her head, she indicated that she wanted to talk to him. Alone. Now.

Eirik smiled at one of the Coven, who was discussing her latest acquisition with him, and excused himself, following Freya out into a quiet part of the dark garden.

"What happened with Severus?"

Eirik found himself stepping back at the ferocity of her attack. He held up his hands as if to ward her off. "Nothing."

"Eirik. I saw you go in with him."

She made him feel the way Gudrid had when she'd caught him destroying an older brother's broomstick after the cur had tried to beat him with it.

"All right. I seduced him."

She raised that Hillswick eyebrow at him. He reacted angrily to the disdain in her look. "Seduced, Freya. Not raped. My lovers come to my bed willingly. And they enjoy themselves. Why don't you ask him?"

"I would but he's gone."

"What!"

"Alexander wanted permission to spend the night with Helga's boys. He couldn't find his father. I told him to go ahead, that it would be all right. But when I tried to find Severus, all I found in his bedroom was a note addressed to me, telling me to stay as long as I wanted and reminding me that Alexander was leaving for Wales on the twenty-seventh. That he was going back to the house. Eirik, what did you do to him?"

"Nothing. I swear." He passed his hands over his hair in frustration. Then he stopped. "Bloody hell, he was serious!"

Freya crossed her arms over her chest and waited. Eirik shook his head and dropped into a nearby chair.

"Eirik?"

He looked up at her. "He wanted to know to whom I would be reporting. Something about...what we'd done was going to affect Alexander. Freya, I swore to him that I didn't know what he was talking about. Wolf's honour. But he didn't believe me."

He stood up. "Freya, what the hell is going on? Does he really think that our making love is, in some way, going to cost him Alexander? He can't be serious. In this family?"

Freya took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. She looked at Eirik who was waiting for some response from her. Preferably confirmation that he had wrongly assessed the situation.

"Yes, he does." She gentled her tone. She couldn't blame him for not knowing recent events. Politics were not his world. "Eirik, he has reason to. There are things you don't know."

"Then tell me."

She shook her head. "No, they're not mine to tell. However, I will tell you this: leave him alone. He's not a player, Eirik. He doesn't know how, he doesn't know the rules to that game. Find somebody else to fill in your time until your next exhibition."

She patted him on the arm and turned, needing to find Oddvar and make her own excuses. She would be leaving as soon as she could, but Alexander needed this time with his people. She was certain that Finnbogi would find someone trustworthy to apparate Alexander home in time for their leaving for Wales.

Eirik watched her, knowing that if she refused once to fill him in, she would continue doing so.

Maybe he should just ignore the whole thing. Go on the way he had all these years. After all, the sea of life was filled with fish.

He sighed, shaking his head.

Problem was those fish weren't all that attractive any more.

Bad enough that his werewolf antecedents were proving all too true but, somehow, he had blundered badly. Not a great way to begin! Now he needed to make certain that he wouldn't repeat his mistake. He needed information.

Fortunately, he had an idea where to go.

Finnbogi found him early the next morning in his father's private office, a small stack of files on his lap, a much taller one on the desk next to his propped up feet. He held a large mug of strong coffee in one hand as he went through the reports with the other.

"Brekke?"

Eirik glared up from the document he was reading. "Family business, not politics, Finnbogi."

The President's Personal Assistant closed the door and approached the desk. He glanced at the files and nodded when he read the name that he knew appeared on all of them. "Does this have to do with the sudden departure of two of your father's guests?"

Eirik Brekke returned his accusation with a bleary-eyed scowl and a tone that would have given the President himself pause. "This is private, Finnbogi."

"And personal?"

Eirik nodded. "Bloody right it's personal," he growled.

The reaction he got was not what he had been expecting. Instead of calling security or turning all PA on him, Finnbogi merely nodded and went back to the door. "The President has a meeting scheduled in here for eleven o'clock. I would appreciate it if your father didn't find anything out of order. You know how he always notices." And closed the door behind him.

Alexander had chattered non-stop since the day he'd arrived for Christmas holidays.

All right, thought Snape, with a hint of a smile, an exaggeration, but still, he doubted that there was any aspect of Hogwarts life on which he hadn't been brought up to date. Oh, Alexander had written, but only about the things important to a thirteen year old boy: Quidditch and his assessment of how his classmates had changed since the last time he had seen them, what they'd been up to, who had been caught doing what by whom. A few - very few! - comments about his courses.

The most amazing thing was that Snape found he didn't mind. He had wondered if he would discover that he missed the place after all, but he didn't. He listened to his son's reports as he thought any parent might: with curiosity.

There was a new professor of Transfiguration, a man he had taught as a student. Thornton Wilkes was less dour than McGonagall but as demanding. Instead of chastising failed assignments, he found humour in them. And unlike the two previous instructors, he didn't also serve as Head of Gryffindor. That duty had been assigned to the not-so-new Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor, one Remus Lupin. Aided by his partner, Sirius Black who taught Flying and coached Quidditch.

Snape had noticed that Alexander had been very cautious with those last bits of information. He had watched his father's face as he had broken that particular news to him. Snape had smiled at his son. "That's good. Otherwise Gryffindors would take advantage of the full moon to raise more havoc than they normally do."

And it hadn't bothered him more than that. Another surprise. When he thought about it later on, he concluded that the Remus Lupin he had fallen for had been an illusion. He'd hadn't known Lupin well as a student: he'd just been incredibly attracted to him. His first real... What was it the students used to say? Oh, yes, a crush. And over the years he had probably unconsciously built on that illusion. The reality had put paid to that. At least something good had come out of all of it: the Wolfsbane Potion. He did wonder from whom Lupin got his monthly dose as no one had approached him for any.

Not from his replacement. Professor Grog was a dud, according to Alexander. Everyone in the school knew that the Headmistress was searching for a replacement.

And though he hadn't liked her as Head of Gryffindor, Alexander admitted to him that she wasn't so bad as Head of Slytherin. She made an effort to be available to them at any time. And she didn't let the other Houses get away with taunting any of them. She'd even taken 50 points away from Gryffindor when a couple of them had made comments about `Slytherin slime'.

And she'd been really nice about finding him a safe place to transform: his dorm only had three residents. Besides himself, there was Rhodri, who saw to it that he took the Wolfsbane his father sent every month - in fact, razzed him about it in public, just to make sure that everyone knew he was taking it. And Geoffroi Kynan, who had roomed with him that first year. Geoff was `pretty cool' with the werewolf thing. But then it took a lot to get a reaction from Geoff: his parents had been mysteriously killed while travelling in some distant land, and he lived with a maiden aunt, who brought him with her every summer when she hunted vampires in the mountains of Transylvania.

"For their blood," Alexander explained. "She's a medi-witch and she's working on diseases of the blood. Well, that's what she says. Geoff isn't too sure that she's not one herself. He says that she works at night. And that if she goes out during the day, it's usually rainy and she wears dark glasses."

Freya and Snape had exchanged smiles.

They joined the Clan at the Council House in the Village for a Solstice party. At one point in the evening, Freya found Severus in serious conversation with Elder Hillswick. With a smile, she extricated him.

"Have you noticed that your son seems to be holding court? Over there, by the tree. The one with all the young witches." She shook her head. "It's starting. I had hoped that the Brekke charm wouldn't make its appearance quite this early."

"Are you telling me," Snape winced as he watched his son, "that it may be time for another of those `Talks'?"

Freya laughed and patted his arm. "I'm afraid so."

His sigh was rather resigned.

They were laughing at one of Alexander's school stories when they returned to the house and found that they had a visitor.

In the library, comfortably stretched out on the couch, book in hand, Eirik Brekke was waiting for them to notice him.

"Onkel Eirik!" Alexander was pleased; Eirik was his favourite uncle.

"Eirik." Freya was less pleased. She glanced at Severus who was stonefaced. "My, this is a surprise. What are you doing here?"

Eirik swung his legs off the couch and stood, accepting and returning Alexander's hug. "Actually, I came to see Alexander." He grinned at his nephew. "I have a favour to ask of him."

Alexander looked delighted. "Really? What?"

Eirik took a step back so he could see the boy's face and suddenly turned very serious. "Alexander. I would like permission to court your father."

The only sound in the room was the crackle of the fire.

Severus made a jerky motion forward which Freya stopped with her hand on his arm.

Alexander looked from his uncle to his father and back again. He sounded as confused as he looked. "You want to court papa?"

Eirik nodded. "Do you have any objections?"

Alexander rocked on his feet, a little uncomfortable. "Maybe you should be asking papa."

"I'm asking you. I'll ask him later on after we've had a little talk. But I can't have that talk with him unless you approve."

Alexander looked up at his uncle. Now equally serious, he asked, "Why do you want to court papa?"

Eirik stooped a little so that they spoke eye to eye. "He smells right."

Freya caught her reaction quickly though she tightened her grip on Severus's arm.

Alexander's eyes looked as though they might pop out of his head. "He smells right?"

Eirik nodded, as serious as the boy watching him. "He smells right," he confirmed.

Alexander snickered. Turned beet red. Cleared his throat. Did it again. "Okay," he squeaked and quickly left the room. From the kitchen, the others could hear him giggling nervously.

"Eirik, are you certain?" Freya hadn't released Severus who now looked confused as well as angry.

"Yes. Very certain. Celibately certain."

She nodded her head. "I see. Eirik, if you would be so kind as to join Alexander in the kitchen. Ask Ketil to prepare some warm milk. I need to explain a few things to Severus."

With a nod, Eirik left the room, but not before he took a good look at the man he was claiming. Oh, dear, thought Freya. She knew that look.

As she closed the door of the library, Severus snapped, "What the hell..."

She held up her hand. "Severus. Sit. On the couch. Please."

She waited until he did. She sat next to him and took one of his hands in hers. "Severus, what do you know about the courtship practices of werewolves?"

"What the bloody hell does..."

She glared at him.

"Oh, all right. What I've read. That the Alphas, which many of them are, are the first to mate and they do so young. The others often do so later in age. That they mate for life."

She grimaced and patted his hand absentmindedly. "That sounds very...animalistic. And it really isn't like that. As for mating for life, well...," she rolled her eyes. "Which books have you been reading? Oh, well, there are a few facts that are not always mentioned in books, especially those written by Nons. Such as how a werewolf knows he - or she, because, though rare, female werewolves do exist, you know..."

"Freya. Get to the point."

"Yes, about the right mate." She corrected herself, "The right partner. There is something in the scent of a partner that tells a wolf that he or she has found their partner for life. Usually in the scent that appears during and/or after a sexual encounter."

She could feel Severus withdrawing. They had never spoken about his reasons for leaving the Brekke homestead that day in August.

"Severus." She tightened her grip on his hand. "Your sexuality has never been an issue. Whomever you select as a partner is only important in that they love you. I know that you and Eirik had such an encounter. You need to know that his request to court you is not a game, not a trick, but a serious offer on his part. You have the right, as in any other courtship, to turn him down, to send him away. If the attraction is not reciprocated.

"And if you do, you also need to know that you are not damning Eirik to lonely celibacy. Nothing that dramatic. Odin knows, the Brekkes, male or female, are not proponents of that belief. But he will probably never find another partner who affects him as you do. He will never experience the deep intimacy a werewolf experiences with a true life partner."

"You're speaking as though he is a werewolf. He told me he was not."

"No, he isn't. He doesn't Change. But he does carry the gene. And he is given to a great many of the traits of a werewolf. For example, when he swears `Wolf's honour', it binds him as much as any true werewolf."

She pulled Severus's now cold hands onto her lap and covered them with hers. "I have a favour to ask of you, Severus."

His eyes were wary.

"I would like you to allow Eirik to stay for a few days. To give yourself time to see how you truly feel. Please, would you do that for me?"

Severus closed his eyes. After a moment, he said, "And what do I tell Alexander?"

"About what, dear? He's known about the importance of scent from his childhood. It's one of the facts of life that are taught cubs as they grow up. Inga had that little talk with him as soon as he began asking questions about the different kinds of couples who live in the Village."

She found herself smiling at his look of astonishment. "Severus! You can't mean to tell me that you think he hasn't noticed?"

He wriggled a little uncomfortably.

"I doubt that your son will have any trouble with the gender of your partner should you decide to share your life with a man."

"Then why was he so uncomfortable with Brekke's request?"

Freya laughed. "Well, a child never really thinks of its parent as having a sexual identity apart from that of, in this case, male parent. It's a titillating and slightly embarrassing concept for a teenager, whose hormones are making themselves felt, to understand that his parent may also have the same feelings. One never really thinks that one's parents might indulge in sex. That's only for the young, don't you know."

She allowed Severus a few moments to think. Then, she patted his hands, stood and smiled at him. "Why don't you join us in the kitchen when you've come to a decision? If you decide to let Eirik stay, I'll have Ketil prepare the parlour as his bedroom. Inga used it as hers that last year."

His voice was almost scornful. "Are you sure that Brekke will accept that?"

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "He's come to court you, Severus, not screw you."

The word had the effect she wanted: he suddenly looked less shell-shocked and some colour returned to his face.

She was kind enough to shut the door behind her, allowing him privacy to confront the situation.

Severus was frankly stunned. Not only at the sudden appearance of Eirik Brekke, but also by the fact that both Freya and Alexander were taking him seriously.

He stared at his clasped hands.

It had to be a joke.

Funny, he'd thought that Freya and Alexander liked him, yet here they were, participating in this not-so-funny joke against him.

It...hurt.

Severus closed his eyes and sagged back against the couch.

Maybe... Maybe he was over-reacting. Merlin knew, he was paranoid enough.

Maybe it was...real. Freya and Alexander weren't cruel. Why would they suddenly start?

All right. He would assume that they were taking this seriously.

Should he?

Did he want to?

He scoffed as he carded his fingers through his hair.

Life had been so much easier at Hogwarts. There, he'd hidden in his dungeon, taught his classes, tried to fit in the experiments which called to him.

Once in a while, Voldemort would summon him and he went, knowing full well what would happen.

Once in a while, Dumbledore trotted him out - along with the rest of the staff - to impress various Ministry people, or parents.

He had usually stuck to the shadows, which he now had to admit had only added to his reputation of being anti-social and maybe having something to hide. Mind, Dumbledore had never insisted he behave differently.

Severus stood up and wandered around the room, not really seeing anything he was staring at.

And then Alexander - he shook his head - had come into his life. Forcing him come out of his dungeon so that he could see that all was well with his son. Giving more meaning to his life than the occasional successful new potion. Changing everything.

And now there seemed to be more change coming.

Someone wanted him.

Seriously, according to Freya.

Someone he was drawn to. Someone he had had and whom he wanted again. Someone who was not only talented, but uncanningly beautiful.

Who wanted him.

As ugly as he was.

All because of a smell?

Severus snorted: as if!

But Freya had asked him to allow Eirik to stay a few days. She'd never before asked him for anything. And she'd stood by him and had been influential in his still being here and not rotting away in Azkaban.

Here, the only place he had ever dared allow himself to think of as home.

Well, he owed her.

If she wanted Eirik Brekke to remain for a few days, he would give her that.

"Ketil. If you're not busy..."

His name no sooner mentioned than Ketil appeared in the room with him. "Master?"

"Ketil. I shall be spending the night in the laboratory. I don't want to be interrupted as the potion I shall be working on is very sensitive and requires my complete attention. Would you please inform the others."

"Certainly, Master."

At the door of the library, on his way to his lab via the front door, not the kitchen - there were limits to his foolishness - he tossed over his shoulder. "And please prepare the parlour for Master Brekke to use as his bedroom. He will be staying with us for a few days."

Eirik Brekke, also known as Northlander, had a reputation in his family of being the most impulsive of Oddvar's children.

Freya Hillswick was quickly re-evaluating Eirik's reputation. His courtship of Severus Snape was anything but.

First of all, he did nothing that in any way resembled courtship. He behaved no differently than he had whenever he had visited Inga. He sat around, chatted with whomever was close by, and sketched constantly.

And, as usual, he was messy with his drawings. They could be found all over the house. One could follow his trail and figure out what he'd been doing without much effort.

There were rough sketches of Alexander as he ate, read, snoozed, flew, laughed, talked or played chess with his father. Ones of Freya as she watched him. Once done, he tossed them about, not caring where they landed, until Ketil - whom he also sketched, much to the house elf's embarrassment - popped up to collect them all and place them in the room that they now thought of as his.

There were ones of Severus as well. But just rough outlines as though Eirik wasn't yet ready to add detail. As though he were still studying him.

That first night, Severus had indeed disappeared into his lab, to return to the house only for breakfast the next morning. He looked tired as she doubted that he'd had any sleep, and he seemed almost skittish. But he nodded in response to Eirik's "Good morning," and took his usual place; mind, as if on guard for some attack.

There had been none forthcoming. Not then, not in the following days.

Eirik, Freya decided, seemed to be waiting for Severus to get used to his presence. One of her nephews worked with magical Creatures. He had an excellent reputation for capturing most troublesome beasts without harming them. His secret, he had once confided to her, was that he took the time to let them get used to his being there. Until they accepted that he wasn't there to harm them, but in fact rescue them.

She wondered if Eirik had been taking instruction from her nephew. If so, it was working. After four days, Severus no longer gave the impression he was going to jump out of his skin if Eirik just happened to invade his personal space.

That too, she noticed, was occurring with slightly more frequency. Eirik no longer went out of his way to avoid invading Severus's personal space. He didn't intrude, but if he was going out of the room, he didn't detour around Severus, but passed by him as Alexander and Freya did.

And he didn't force conversation on the man. It was as though he knew that Severus was not the most talkative of people.

And though Eirik was well behaved, he wasn't on his best behaviour. He left things lying around, stretched out on the couch or the floor with his sketch pad or whatever book he was reading. He added to Alexander's collection of mildly disgusting jokes - she pretended not to hear or she left the room so that Alexander was not embarrassed by her presence. She accepted that as `male-bonding' and depended on Severus's presence to keep things within acceptable limits.

And he had brought his broomstick with him.

As a boy, Eirik had played Quidditch with the other children in the family. And the Brekkes played rough. She wasn't certain that she liked some of the tricks Eirik was teaching Alexander when the sun shone and the wind dropped and they went out. They weren't moves that she thought a Seeker could use, but it was obvious that Alexander appreciated them. She heard Rhodri's name mentioned several times.

Severus made no comment as he watched. Eirik invited him to join them but he only shook his head. "Not my domain," he said. But Freya did notice that though he kept an eye on Alexander, making certain that his son didn't try anything too foolish, his eyes also followed the man who whooped and shouted as much as the boy.

There was a soft knock on his door as if the knocker wasn't certain he was asleep and didn't want to wake him if he were.

Eirik opened the door. Alexander grimaced a little. "May I come in?"

Eirik nodded and watched his nephew as the boy inspected the way in which the parlour now reflected his presence more than his mother's.

He had a very good idea why Alexander was here but decided that the boy should be the one to choose the moment to begin this conversation.

As usual there were sketches all over the place. And clothes. Eirik knew he was messy. Usually his house elf took care of that, but he hadn't brought Orm with him. And he'd forbidden Ketil to clean up after him. He wanted Severus to see him as he was, not as others presented him.

In spite of his reputation as easy-going, he wasn't an easy man to get along with, as his past lovers were all too happy to point out. Especially when he was painting.

So far that hadn't happened, but Eirik knew that, in the next couple of days, the need to paint would become overwhelming, and then he would discover if Severus would be able to continue tolerating him.

Alexander found the sketch that Eirik had done long ago of his mother before he'd been born.

"That's for you. I was going to give it to you tomorrow while you were packing. I found it when I was sorting through some papers."

Alexander held the small framed picture of the woman whom he resembled. "I miss her. A lot."

Eirik nodded. "I miss her, too. I think she was the only Brekke who never told me that I was wasting my time with my painting."

Alexander was surprised by that. "Even Bestefar?"

Eirik shrugged. "Mind you, he's retracted that in the last few years, but I think he still worries that I'll end up sketching on the corner of some alley for knuts."

"Papa wouldn't think that if that's what I decided to do."

"No. Your papa wouldn't."

"Onkel Eirik."

"Yes, Alexander."

"Don't hurt him."

Eirik had changed his clothes for the paint-splattered Muggle track suit he wore whenever he was working. He now slipped his hands into its pockets. "He's been hurt before."

Alexander came to stand in front of him. "I think...I'm not certain...it may have to do with Professor Lupin."

"The werewolf. Who is Sirius Black's partner?"

Alexander nodded. He'd answered all sorts of his uncle's questions about Hogwarts. Including about the staff. "The time Professor Lupin came here, papa was really pleased to see him. But by the time he left the next day... Papa stayed in his lab for several days. And I think...I may be wrong, but I think it had more to do than with the message the professor brought."

Eirik stored that information away for future reference.

"Onkel Eirik, you are serious about this courtship thing?"

"Wolf's honour, Alexander."

"Don't hurt him." His voice aged. "If you do, I'll go to the Elders and lay plaint." For a moment, the wolf in Alexander looked out of his eyes at his uncle. "Wolf's honour. Does he still smell right to you?"

Eirik allowed the wolf in him, slight though it might be, to respond. His eyes gleamed feral in the light. "Yes, he does."

Alexander waited a heartbeat longer before he nodded, the wolf gone.

Damn, thought Eirik, there was a lot of Oddvar in this one.

Alexander had returned to Hogwarts and suddenly Eirik seemed to be very busy in the room he used.

Severus pushed the partially open door wider and looked in. This was the first time that he was making a move towards Eirik, and he was surprised to find himself as cautious as he'd ever been when he'd spied for Dumbledore.

He stepped into the room and realized that he could have made all the noise in the world: Eirik would probably not have heard him.

He was attacking a large canvas. There was no other word to describe what he was doing.

The bed had been pushed against the far wall, away from the windows. The canvas sat propped up on a couple of easels, catching the pale winter light, its white slowly disappearing under slashes of vital, brilliant colours.

There was a table behind Eirik, with cans of paints in various colours; paintbrushes of varying sizes, from line-fine to wide enough to whitewash a fence, were lying side by side. Without taking his eyes off the canvas, Eirik reached behind him and selected a new brush and can of paint. Continuously chanting the spells which gave the paint life, he dipped the brush into the can, and placed a strong, solid stroke in a place which made sense only to him.

The concentration on Eirik's face was familiar to Severus. He'd seen it on his own, reflected up at him from the shiny surface of the liquid in a cauldron.

Severus leaned against the door and, for several minutes, watched Eirik Northlander at work. He knew that both Freya and Ketil would be thankful that he'd covered the floor between his canvas and the table: he was rather sloppy. Then, with a rueful shake of his head, Severus quietly left the room, pulling the door behind him, and went to find his latest project in his lab.

He'd come, in the mood to challenge Brekke on this courtship thing. He was ready to admit that he didn't know anything about such rituals, but he was tired of wondering just when Brekke was going to make a move of some kind.

To think that he'd been worried about a confrontation!

Severus was reading in the library when, late the next night, Eirik rejoined the world. He closed his book and rested it on his knee. Eirik dropped bonelessly on the couch and sighed.

"Hungry?"

Eirik grinned tiredly. There were lines of exhaustion on his face, but there was also a gleam in his eyes that Severus recognized as coming with a project successfully carried out. "Ketil just fed me. He made certain I ate. He kept on glaring at me and muttering under his breath. I was worried that he and Orm might not get along, but I sense a future united front. Orm is my much put-upon house elf."

Severus nearly smiled. "I assume you mean he tries to get you to eat and sleep while you're in this mood, with little success."

"Ah, is that the voice of experience I hear?"

Severus ignored that as the answer was far too obvious. "And are you pleased with your efforts?"

Arms stretched above his head, Eirik twisted his body like a cat.

Severus felt the heat rise in his body.

"Damn, I have to find a way of painting that doesn't required stooping. My back is screaming at me." Eirik grinned tiredly at him and the heat dropped to his groin. "Problem is, I'm usually wired after I finish a piece. That's how I know it went well."

Severus tried hard to ignore the heat. "And if you're not...wired, is it?...then you know what?"

"To throw the bloody thing away: it won't be any good."

Severus found he was curious. "Do you throw away many pieces?"

Eirik slowly sat up. "About as many unsuccessful potions as you do."

That took Severus by surprise.

"An unsuccessful experiment doesn't imply failure." Eirik stood up and stretched again. "It just means you have to try again until it's right. Don't you agree?"

Severus looked up at the man whose face, hair and hands, along with his clothing, were streaked with sprays of colour. "Yes. I must admit to being surprised that carries over into Art."

"What is painting but a form of magic, Severus. No different, I would think, from potion making. One puts ingredients into a pot together - in my case, a canvas - and stirs, all the while hoping that the combination is the right one, the order is correct. That the ingredients will produce what you're aiming for. That the spells will hold true." He walked over to Severus's chair, and placing his hands to either side of Severus - who had grown very still - on the arm rests of his chair, he leaned over and kissed him lightly on the mouth. "I'm for a shower."

At the door, he looked back. "If you need to use the facilities, just come in. I'm not self-conscious. But I do take very long showers after a painting session. If you don't, well, don't worry; I won't drown. I'm sure that Ketil will keep an eye on me."

He was slightly disappointed when Severus didn't join him.

Severus was slightly disappointed in himself that he didn't.

Eirik was as careful as Severus had been when, late the next morning, he opened the door to Severus's laboratory. He was inviting himself in for a tour and he wasn't certain how that was going to go over with the man who was stirring a smallish cauldron on a fire to one side of the room.

"Close the door. You're letting in the cold and this potion needs a constant heat."

Not, thought Eirik, the most inviting of tones. Well, at least he hadn't been told to get the hell out.

He tossed aside the cloak he'd pulled on before leaving the house. Though the lab was barely forty feet away from it, and the passage way was enclosed, it was bloody cold, what with the January wind blowing the way it was. Eirik came over to the fire and held his hands by it to warm them up.

"Gloves?"

Again that dry, slightly sarcastic tone. Eirik smiled to himself. Severus spoke to Alexander in just that way and the boy never seemed to notice. Probably Severus's usual speaking voice. Did this mean that he was finally at ease with his presence?

"Forgot them. I don't usually hang about the North at this time of the year. I like to visit warmer climes. Like Italy or Crete."

Severus kept on stirring his potion, in a figure eight pattern.

"Is that important?" Eirik asked, pointing to the spoon.

"It makes for a more consistently blended potion. And besides, this one requires a certain delicate handling. It doesn't respond well to bruising."

As Eirik walked about the room he noticed Severus kept glancing up from his stirring to see what Eirik was looking at.

"That wall is ingredients," he explained.

Eirik smiled at him and went off to explore the shelves for the liquids, the stacks of variously sized drawers for the dry. He looked over his shoulder and saw teeth holding back that eminently kissable lower lip as if Severus was trying to stop words from spilling forth from his mouth.

Eirik had a pretty good idea what the words were: probably something about not touching. The same words that he never bothered holding back when uninvited guests walked around his studio.

He was pleased to see the lip had been released the next time he glanced over: Severus had realized that Eirik understood the rules respecting another's work space.

Eirik turned and grinned at him. "All in alphabetical order. Why am I not surprised? But why are the bottles different colours?"

Severus finished stirring and removed the cauldron from the fire, onto a trivet that stood next to a dozen bottles, waiting to be filled.

"To protect them from the light. Otherwise some of them react differently than they should. In some cases, it lowers their volatility and makes them safer to handle."

Eirik nodded. "And those?" He pointed to another wall, whose shelves were enclosed behind windowed doors.

Severus leaned back against the heavy work table that was near the fire and slipped his hands into his pockets. "Most are completed potions; some are preparations only needing liquid of some kind to be useful."

"More of the coloured bottles. But this time, even the labels have coloured borders. I take it this is more than for protection against the light."

Severus waited as Eirik read the labels on some of the bottles. "Yes. This time the colours indicate how a potion should be used. For example, red indicates that the potion needs to be used with caution. Yellow, that is should be added to something with alcohol. White, that it is to be used as is."

"And I suppose black is for the poisons?"

"For the poisonous." Severus hesitated then continued. "Death is stoppered in the clear containers on the top left shelf."

Eirik looked at him, thinking that maybe Severus was joking then realized that he was not. "I would think," he offered carefully, as he wasn't certain if he was treading on thin ice, "that one wouldn't want the light to affect these."

Severus shook his head. "Nothing affects those."

Eirik slowly made his way back to the man watching his reactions. "Are they the ones that got you into all that trouble?"

Some of the files he'd read in his father's office concerned the potions that Severus had created, the use they'd been put to and how they'd worked. He wasn't a particularly squeamish man, but he had found them hard going. There'd been another file about Severus's response when he'd understood how his creations were being used.

He'd done a painting once, when he was just beginning to be recognized, of a young, beautiful, sensuous witch. A nude. The man who had paid him for it had presented it to his wife. Who was not the woman Eirik had painted. He'd later learned that the wife, who was much older than the woman he'd painted, had refused to give the man control of her inheritance. Their divorce had been incredibly ugly and had titillated the gossips columns for years.

Severus shrugged. "That's an understated way of putting it."

"Why are they here?"

"Because there are times when they are needed. And most of them take a very long time to make properly."

Eirik stopped right in front of Severus, definitely in his personal space. "And throwing them away would mean that you'd have given in to Them. That you'd denied the skills that you have. And you won't do that, will you, Severus?"

When he'd had the chance, Eirik had bought back the nude. Just to remind him that beauty could be used as a weapon.

Severus scowled at him: a sure sign that Eirik had hit a bull's eye. He gave a negligent little shrug to hide his unease. "My little rebellion."

Eirik nodded. "I did some nudes of my mother once. Sketches, not paintings. Horrified and even disgusted some of the family. One of the Coven wanted me confined to a hospital, preferable St. Mungo's, for evaluation. For my `unnatural behaviour'."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "You still have them."

Eirik smiled.

"Hanging somewhere that will offend those who are easily offended."

Eirik's smile grew wider. "I see you already know me."

Severus shook his head. "I know nothing about you, Eirik Brekke. Or about Northlander, other than he paints."

"Do you want to?"

Severus stood very still. "Is this when we have that talk you told Alexander you would have with me, when you asked him for permission to court me?"

Eirik shook his head. "We've been having that talk since I got here. We may not have been speaking, but we have been discussing things. Important things."

"Really? Such as?"

"Such as the fact that you're no more a morning person than I am."

"And that's important?"

"Well, it means I won't be tempted to kill you over breakfast."

Severus thought a moment. "What other important discussions have we been having?"

"You're kind to Ketil. Father need never take a switch to you because you've been rude or inconsiderate to a house elf."

"And did he to you?"

Eirik shook his head. "I have an older brother, by the First of the Coven, who delighted in tormenting anyone smaller than he. When Oddvar caught him with a House Elf, his screams nearly brought the roof down. He never was mean or discourteous to an elf again. At least, in Father's house. Mind you," he turned contemplative, "he picked on me and the others until he left for school, but Father said that we could fight back and a house elf wouldn't."

"And did you?"

Eirik nodded. "He's a member of the Ministry for Scandinavia. I still hate his guts."

"Anything else?"

"You care deeply for Freya but you love your son. Greatly."

"Yes. I do. And this tells you what?"

"That, in spite of that cold uncaring demeanour you present to the world, you are a man capable of great passions." Eirik raised his hands and framed Severus's face with them. He pushed back the long, black hair that was damp from the steam that had flowed up from the cooking potion, and held it back. "Now," he said, eyes glowing, "the courtship begins."

And he took possession of Severus's mouth.

He did so in a gentle yet determined fashion.

He began with a light kiss and then suddenly sucked that beguiling lower lip into his mouth. A light wet stroke of his tongue and he released it, letting his tongue follow it back to the mouth that was now slightly open.

He didn't invade. Instead, he used the tip to trace the lower then the upper lip, repeated the motion but, this time, teasing the warm interior of Severus's mouth with little forays.

He felt the hard swallow and allowed himself to appreciate the small victory.

He deepened the kiss, using his mouth to convince the other to open more widely.

He felt hands light on his hips as Severus's mouth accepted his tongue. More passively than he would have liked. But the fact that the grip on his hips suddenly tightened almost painfully when he indicated that he might be pulling away definitely encouraged him. He rewarded that by stroking the palate and heard a soft sound. He challenged the tongue to get into play and it did.

Severus tasted of the coffee he had had for breakfast, with a slight bitterness that must have come from his chanting during the preparation of the potion. All overladen with the taste of the man's heat, of his own particular flavour.

Eirik dropped his hands further into the mass of hair, angling the head to allow it easier access to his mouth and was delighted when Severus jutted his hips so that they rubbed against his own.

The nice thing, he thought, about having a lover the same height was that everything was located in just the right place. He pressed back and was rewarded with a moan.

He pulled his tongue back into his own mouth and the other's followed, exploring as his had. This time the sound came from him.

The odour which bound him to this man was making itself known. Slight, but tickling. He felt himself growing hard.

He was disappointed when Severus's hands released him but they were only moving to his head; one gripped his nape while the other captured the back of his head to hold him still.

He could hear the pants and gasps that came from both of them now. He inserted his leg between Severus's, and encountered ...

"Severus, is that potion... Oh, dear! Oh, my! Excuse me."

And the sound of a door closing. A gust of cooler air.

Bloody hell, he thought, Freya! Talk about timing.

Severus pulled back and though he was flushed, panting, lips wet, looking eminently fuckable, he also looked uncomfortable.

Eirik pulled his head back, leaving his hands tangled in Severus's hair. He shook his head and smiled at the man he had wanted to take right here right now on the work table. Well, not for today. "I feel," he rasped ruefully, "like I did when I was fourteen and the Fourth caught me snogging her younger sister."

Severus managed to raise that disdainful eyebrow of his, though Eirik found its impact much diminished. "Like an idiot?"

Eirik leaned forward and rested his forehead against Severus's. "Nope. Bloody frustrated." He stroked his lips against Severus's cheek and pulled back, letting go this time. "I'll leave you to get on with your work. Otherwise, I fear that Freya will truly have grounds to scold me."

He went to pick up his cloak, swirled then settled it on his shoulders. At the door he looked back. Severus was still where he'd been, leaning against the work table. Looking, Eirik was very pleased to see, slightly hungry.

"I'll see you at lunch," he said and closed the door behind him.

He would have been far more pleased had he seen Severus's hand go up to his mouth and stroke the swollen lips.

Freya tried hard to control the grin that wanted out.

The two men were sitting each in a different part of the library, pretending - not all that successfully to her eagle eyes - that this was just another evening in the household.

Severus was at the desk, writing a letter in response to Alexander's which had arrived this afternoon with the cheerful news that some Hufflepuff had managed to blow up the potions classroom. Eirik, back to Severus, was on the couch, spread out as always, reading a tome on what seemed to be a new interest, potions.

She settled her heavy winter cloak about her shoulders. Eirik had spent the day in his room, crating his new work and sending it off to that exhibition of his which was to occur some time soon in New York City. Severus had come out of his lab only in time for supper. Conversation had been rather stilted as the two men had studiously avoided looking directly at each other.

It amused her that her unintentional intrusion had two mature men, one stoic to the point of irritation, the other more than a bit of a profligate, behaving like embarrassed teenagers.

She cleared her throat and got both their attentions.

"I'm leaving for a few weeks."

"What!" Severus looked shocked; Eirik, merely uncomfortable.

She stepped into the room and both men came to their feet. "The two of you are old enough not to need or want a chaperon. Now then, I shall be visiting several old friends. I've left an itinerary with Ketil. Should anyone need me before I return, he'll know where to contact me."

Eirik grinned at her. "We didn't mean to embarrass you, Freya. I thought you were made of stronger stuff than that."

She stopped pulling on her gloves long enough to glare at him. "I was not embarrassed. In fact, what I saw did make me wish, for just a moment, that I had your talent for sketching. It would have made an e..." she smiled, "a pretty picture."

Though Eirik laughed, she did note that his face was slightly flushed. However Severus was not finding any of this funny, and she moved to block his protest.

"No, dear, I am not being chased away. I believe that I have enough sensitivity to know when two people need time alone. But I must caution you: I have to be back for Anna's laying-in. She's carrying twins and I want to be around for her last month as well as the delivery. So you have five weeks at the most."

She looked sternly at Eirik. "Severus needs to prepare two potions of Wolfsbane for Alexander, so don't distract him while he's doing that. Ketil will remind both of you should he feel it necessary."

"It won't be necessary." Severus's voice was almost too blunt. Eirik only nodded at her.

She looked at the two of them. Odin knew if this was a good idea.

"Eirik, behave yourself. And understand that when Severus is working in his lab, he's like you in your studio. He doesn't mind being disturbed when he's formulating some ordinary potion, but he does not tolerate interruptions of any kind when he's involved in complex ones. Rather like you," she added as though it were an afterthought, "when you're painting non-stop." She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Understood." He kissed her back and hugged her tightly. "Thank you," he whispered in her ear.

"Severus." Poor man. He looked as though he were being abandoned. "Try very hard not to kill Eirik." Not what he was expecting: it relaxed him a little. She patted his shoulder. "I know the desire might become rather strong, but he is liked and likeable. I think you would end up missing him if you succumbed to the temptation."

She hugged him very tightly and kissed his cheek.

"Are you inferring that someone has tried to kill him?" He returned her hug and, for the first time ever, her kiss.

"I believe there have been a few of the Coven who were tempted. I know for a fact that several agents have seriously contemplated it." And a few lovers, but she thought mentioning that wouldn't help the situation.

Stepping out to the small stack of luggage - cherry red - she smiled at both of them.

"Have fun, the two of you."

And waited just long enough to apparate to see Eirik grin and Severus look sheepish.

"Now what?" Severus looked at Eirik who merely grinned at him.

"Now you finish your letter to your son, informing him, in that way you have, that tempting though it may be, he is not to duplicate that poor Hufflepuff's attempt to blow them all sky-high."

Severus cocked his head. "How did you know?"

Eirik laughed. "It's what I would have done at his age. Not you?"

Severus went back to the table. "At his age I was already experimenting with inventing my own potions. And while I assume my role as a concerned parent, what will you do?"

"I? Well, I shall continue reading up on the history of modern potionmaking."

"And that's all?"

Eirik picked up the book he'd been reading and took over the couch; only this time he settled himself so that he could see Severus whenever he looked up from the page. "What did you think I was going to do?" He propped the book up on his stomach. "Jump your bones?" He looked over the top of the book. "I will," he promised, "but not right now. Finish your correspondence first, Severus."


	4. Four by Josan

Part Four

Severus reread his letter to his son before signing it.

He shook his head slightly, smiling to himself. Whoever would have thought that he would one day be counselling a child, his own son, not to take Potions seriously!

He sympathized with Alexander, who had talent in the area. But yes, the usual Potions Instructor, from what he understood from his slight contact with other schools, was someone who put truth to old clich of `Those who can, do; those who can't, teach.'

Good Potion Makers were few and far between. They were quickly scooped up by Ministries, by medical institutions, by manufacturers of new products. Potions was not deemed to be a glorious enough profession by many - too confined to a lab for appearances in the Daily Prophet - so there were too few of them.

If Alexander cared to learn more, he would see to it during the summer breaks.

He was pleased that Slytherin was indeed showing signs of regaining its past glory at Quidditch. Must have a lot to do with that new Seeker of theirs. It had been very good of Potter to take time out from his own practices with the National Team to show up and give all the Hogwarts Quidditch players a day of lessons. Yes, he did have to agree that he wasn't a bad sort, in spite of being a Gryffindor. He would, however, be far more impressed with Mr. Potter when he settled down and found himself a career worthy of his intelligence rather than his ability to catch a Snitch before anyone else.

Severus reread that part. Alexander delighted in his ability to catch the Snitch before anyone else. He spelled that last bit away. Besides, he couldn't blame Potter for not wanting to settle down: he'd spent his time at Hogwarts having to deal with far more serious matters than a child his age should have had to. It would do Potter good to have a few years with fewer responsibilities, with fewer drastic consequences to catches that were missed. At one point, the playing and the lack of using his brain for something more challenging than beating an opponent to a flying ball would bore him and he would move on.

He'd actually received a few letters from Potter. The first brushed off Severus's thanks for the testimonies Potter had gathered to save him from Azkaban. It was only right, according to Potter, given that Snape had risked his life for them.

However he did take offense at the comment Snape had fit in about his hoping that one day Potter would find his place in the wizarding world. Quidditch may not be potion making, but it did require the use of one's brain.

And to make the point, Potter had provided an entire analysis of how he had managed to catch the Snitch in the match that had seen him replace the first line Seeker after the man had had a rather definitive meeting with a Bulger. It had been his chance, Potter wrote, to prove that he was worth more than a photo op for the National team's PR department. And he'd taken it.

Severus had read the young man's anger and hurt between the lines and had written back that, of course, Potter was worth more than a photo op. Even he who had only participated in Quidditch from the sidelines knew that! And that he had been astounded when reading Potter's letter at how psychological the game truly was.

The next letter was filled with Potter's ramblings. Severus understood that the man was venting his frustrations about his not being used to his full potential by the coach who favoured the older Seeker who, according to Potter, was long past his prime. The World Cup was only a year away: at this rate they wouldn't make it into the play-offs, never mind the final!

Snape had sent back a calm letter, reminding Potter that he was young enough to make first Seeker and play in a great many Quidditch Cups. That if he were reacting at practices the way he had in his previous letter, well, the coach may have some grounds on which to delay his promotion.

Potter's response indicated that he'd only blown up in his letter to Snape. That he felt he could do so safely without anything he'd said or would say in the future getting back to the team administrators.

Severus would have thought that he would have been the last of Potter's instructors with whom the boy...the man would have chosen to begin a correspondence, but there it was. A letter usually arrived every few weeks and Severus had begun reading up on Quidditch the better to understand what Potter was writing about so he could at least respond intelligently.

From the couch, Eirik snorted loudly, obviously not agreeing with something he was reading.

He looked over at the man. Another wonder. How serious... No. He would not allow himself even to think along those lines. Alexander and Freya both seemed to think that this was a done deal, that Eirik Brekke was now a part of this household. All because of some scent...some stink he emitted after sex.

He focused on the letter he was folding, sealed it with his ring then put it and whatever he dared hope aside.

Life had taught him well. He knew his worth and it was not as the partner of this beautiful, talented, gregarious man.

He had his lab; he would be happy with that. And he would. It was far more than he had ever allowed himself to dream of for so many years, and it would satisfy him and those dreams.

He blew out the lamp that sat on his desk and stood up.

As he passed the couch, Eirik's hand reached up and grasped his.

"Going to bed?"

Severus kept his face expressionless. His tone dripped with more sarcasm than usual, but then Freya wasn't around to look at him the way she did when he returned to what he thought of as his Hogwarts voice. "Yes. Do you have any objections?"

Eirik, like Alexander, didn't seem to hear the sarcasm. He merely grinned up at him, tossed the book onto the end of the couch and, never releasing his hand, stood up.

"Then I need to kiss you good-night."

Damn him! The man might claim to be here for his stink, but Severus was growing addicted to his taste. The moment Eirik's mouth opened on his, he wanted...no, he needed to open his own and feed on it. He couldn't believe the hunger it raised in him, how it was never enough. How he craved it.

He would starve when it would no longer be available to him.

It would be prudent to break off the invasion of Eirik's tongue but, like a true addict, he only opened wider, absorbing the flavour and hoping that he would capture enough for his senses to remember it. Maybe, he thought, as Eirik's hands buried themselves in his hair, holding his head still so that he could direct his plunder, he would overdose on it, grow tired of it, find it boring, distasteful. He raised his own hands to Eirik's head, wrapping the long braid around a fist and angrily taking control. Damn him! Why couldn't he taste as others had: bitter, foul. Distastefully unarousing.

Bloody hell, he was hard again. He'd been a hormonal teenager the last time he'd gotten this hard this quickly.

Eirik broke off the kiss which allowed him to breathe. They were both gasping and he could feel Eirik's own erection against his thigh.

"Your bed. Mine is too narrow and I don't want to take the time to magic it larger."

So they went up to his room. Not quickly. There was time for Eirik to push him against a wall and to fill his mouth with that particular flavour again, for Eirik to rub against him, clothed cock against clothed cock. Somewhere in the hallway they lost their robes, their shoes on the stairs, the rest of their clothing...who knew where. All Severus knew was by the time they dropped onto his bed, they were naked.

Hot skin against hot skin and the taste of more than Eirik's mouth overwhelming his senses.

His skin was more of that taste, less strong than his mouth's, which was much less than that of his cock. And the mouth, the hands that played with him were...painless. Severus wondered if it were a Brekke trait. Inga's hands had explored him as Eirik's were doing. He may have been a bastard at the time he had met her, but her gentleness, her fragility had penetrated his bitterness and he had taken a lot of time with her. She'd been a virgin and he almost one, considering his experience with females. Did one quick shag behind the greenhouses with Polly Poindexter count? She hadn't thought so. It had only served to point out all the more to him that what he'd wanted then was not only male but werewolf.

He groaned as Eirik's mouth took possession of one of his nipples. He'd never known that...Oh, Merlin! He was going to come! Ouch! Well, that took care of the imminent orgasm. Not that he really minded, but he'd not had that many with a partner. More with his hand. Many more so.

"Lube?"

"Huh?" What did Eirik want?

"Lube. Grease. Unguent. Where is it, Severus?"

Severus shook his head and tried to think. Why would they need... Oh, like last time. He opened his eyes, forced some saliva into his dry mouth. "In the lab."

Eirik grinned down at him. "In the lab? Severus!" He sounded exasperated as he shook his head. "Not going to do us much good in the lab. And can't call it up as our wands are somewhere...well, not here."

Severus felt a small weight fall into his stomach. Well, it wasn't as if he had really expected any differently, now was it? He pushed Eirik onto his back and slipped down to take his cock into his mouth. If he used enough saliva...

When he'd coated the thick cock as much as he could, he did as he had last time; he turned and offered his arse. He dropped his head onto his folded arms and forced himself to relax. It hurt less if he didn't resist. He could feel his cock softening and fleetingly wished that Eirik had let him come.

Instead of a hard cockhead at the entrance of his arsehole, he felt a mouth. A wet kiss that trailed over a buttock to bite lightly on the more fleshy part.

"No, not that way. Severus, lie down, flat. Put your legs together."

And then the feel of that cock, not pushing itself painfully into his hole but into the aperture of his upper thighs, back and forth, rubbing against his perineum, against his balls. A hand pulled him up at a slight angle, rolled him back against a hard body, and an arm settled on his thigh. The hand took hold of his softened cock and began working it in rhythm to that other cock. A mouth bit down on his shoulder and Severus felt himself grow hard again.

Eirik came first, with a sound that only made Severus harder. He managed the thought that the sound that might prove to be equally addictive.

Eirik's hand left him and, with a sigh that he wouldn't prevent, Severus reached to complete the job.

Instead, his hand was slapped away and he was turned onto his back, facing a suddenly feral partner. "Mine." Said with unquestionable determination.

And Eirik slipped down and took Severus's cock into that hot mouth and with a couple of sucks, a stroke of his tongue, a twirl around his glans under the foreskin had him as hard as he'd been.

And then he couldn't think, only feel and then come.

He opened his eyes to find Eirik propped up on an elbow, watching him with those wolf eyes of his.

He used his free hand to brush the hair off Severus's face. "I think," his voice was far too serious, which warned Severus that he should immediately head for the bathroom and a shower, "that we need to have..." Damn, he hadn't been quick enough. Eirik had rolled over onto him, trapping him. He could fight the man off, but he had the feeling that would only defer this little speech. He sighed and let himself go loose. Might as well get it over with.

"...a little talk, Severus."

Severus gave as much of a shrug as he could, considering the weight on him. For a slim man, Eirik could certainly be a dead weight when he wanted.

"Who taught you that you were nothing more than a hole to be filled?"

Severus froze. What had happened to goodbye, not what I thought this was going to be, guess the smell thing was a mistake?

He kept his face expressionless, strangely difficult considering all the years of experience he had. Instead of looking at the man who had hit him with this, he focused his eyes over him to the ceiling with its reflections of the fire from the small hearth that provided the room with its warmth. In as dry a voice as he could make it, he allowed himself to respond. "I'm sorry that my skills aren't up to the level that you're so obviously used to."

The insult missed.

"Nothing wrong with your skills, Severus. You have a mouth that is sheer magic. You could rouse a dead man's cock with that mouth of yours. It's just that you never seem to expect any similar consideration. Why is that?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. If you would allow, I'd like to take a shower."

Eirik ignored him. That knuckled hand grazed his cheek, back and forth, in a soothing rhythm that made Severus, refocusing once more on the ceiling, want to scream. He was careful to close the back of his throat, forbidding any sound to escape.

"You were willing to allow me to hurt you - again! - tonight. You offered yourself up to be used knowing full well that you weren't properly prepped. That time, at father's celebration, you were surprised when I did so. You weren't expecting that...that consideration, were you? Were you, Severus?"

Eirik's voice was harsh. Rougher than usual. He hadn't raised his voice but Severus could tell he was angry. Severus frowned. What the bloody hell did it matter what he was or wasn't expecting? Eirik had gotten what he'd wanted, hadn't he?

"Severus." Eirik's voice had softened, had lost the anger and slipped into persuasive. Severus might have been able to ignore him, to tell him to go to hell along with his questions, but that hand began its rhythmic stroking again, along his jaw line, down his neck, across his shoulder, tracing back its route, as if offering comfort.

A soothing touch. A gentle touch.

Not demanding. Not hurting. Touching him as he had Alexander the night they had gotten back to Hogwarts and Poppy had isolated them so that Severus could calm and soothe his overly-exhausted child.

There were even words. "It's all right, Severus. It's going to be all right."

But it wouldn't. Eirik had no idea what he'd been. Once he knew, Severus wasn't going to smell right to him.

Oh, damn it. He'd been greedy and had wanted a bit more of Eirik's taste before the man would come to that conclusion. He was going to pay for it now. And it might as well be now. Sooner rather than later. It would be all that harder later when he would have fed his addiction even more. What was it that he'd read about ending an addiction? Ah, yes. Cold turkey. He ruthlessly shoved the returning sensation of loneliness to one side and lowered his gaze to look into Eirik's eyes.

"I was a Death Eater. One of Voldemort's during the first wave of terror."

Eirik didn't move. Another surprise.

"Yes, I know."

Fuck! When... Severus swallowed hard. "How long have you known?"

Eirik kept on touching him. If only he'd stop. Please, Merlin, don't let him stop.

"Since that first time. You disappeared and I broke into Father's secure files. I knew that Finnbogi would have as much information on you as possible."

"I'm surprised that you bothered to come here." Surprised too that he could get the words out so calmly.

Eirik shrugged. "It was only important in that it gave me a sense of how to approach you. And a lot of it was too political for me. Oh, I read every word, Severus, but frankly, I decided that I wanted nothing to do with politics when I was a child. Too much of it at home. The answers I wanted concerned Alexander and Inga. I needed to know if you had been truly in love with her. I needed to know if I was going to have to fight my way past a ghost as well as your defences."

Severus shook his head. "Inga was a chance meeting at a time when I was contemplating suicide. Wasn't that in Finnbogi's file?"

Eirik shook his head. "Finnbogi deals with facts, not emotions unless you piss him off. So, no, nothing about your state of mind at that time. If meeting her kept you alive for me, then that's something more I owe Inga. No, what I did learn was that you seem to have an attraction to werewolves. A particular one, in fact. One Remus Lupin. Tell me, Severus, do I have to fight my way past him?"

Severus actually found the wherewithal to laugh. Rather successfully, considering the situation. "No."

"Sure?"

"Remus Lupin is living with Sirius Black, his lover since their student days at Hogwarts."

"Severus." Eirik's tone reminded Severus of Freya, digging at the truth of some episode between Alexander and his cousins.

"Remus Lupin was...at the most...an adolescent infatuation." There, he'd finally said it aloud.

"I hate to challenge you, Severus, but I don't think so. I think you would have liked him to be more. But I'll let it go. He's not here and I am."

Those knuckles gently stroked his mouth. Eirik's voice was even gentler. "I still want to know who taught you to be used, not loved."

The hand settled against his jaw, the fingertips skimming his temple, the thumb his cheekbones. Silently encouraging. Building on this new need of his for touch.

"Severus, I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving. I'm staying right here."

"Really?" Severus lashed out, his sarcastic sneer getting a startled reaction from the other man. "For how long?"

There was a long silence. Severus could feel the other's heart beating against his side.

"I think I see," Eirik frowned. "It was Voldemort."

Severus was taken aback by the hatred in Eirik's voice. He was the one who hated, not Eirik.

"Severus."

And this time there was no defence against Eirik's tone. "It was how we proved our loyalty to him."

"He raped you and the fact that you permitted him to proved that you were loyal? What kind of bloody arsehole was he?"

Severus almost smiled. "Actually, that's pretty much what he liked: a bloody arsehole."

"Fuck, Severus!"

"That, too. Every now and then to remind me that the freedom I had in the lab he'd given me came at a price. And the price was his satisfaction. He liked me - I can only speak for me, you understand. He didn't use me in front of the others. Probably knew that would be too much for me. Where was I? Oh, yes." His eyes found the security of the ceiling. "He liked me to go down on him first. Taught me just what to do and how to please him. Then he needed to come in my arse. With blood for... What did you call it? Ah, yes. Lube."

He'd never truly noticed before how the reflections of the fire on the ceiling changed with each flicker.

He ignored Eirik's vehemently spat "Fuck!", concentrating on the shadows that seemed to be drawing images above them.

"By the time he came, I guess you could say that I wasn't in the mood, if I ever had been." He tried to shrug as though it was of no importance. "Regardless, the purpose of those encounters was to remind me of my place, which was at his feet. Not for my pleasure. Since no one was permitted into his presence with their wand, the reminder was a very effective one. I often trailed blood back to my lab and my wand."

The hand slipped against his scalp and its fingertips rubbed ease against the tension growing there.

"When I went back to him... I assume Finnbogi did cover all that?" He closed his eyes against the growing ache building up behind his eyes. "Yes. Of course. If he was thorough enough to help save me from Azkaban, I really can't complain, can I?" Who the hell was this man who was speaking so very calmly? "Well, when I went back, Voldemort enjoyed re-enforcing the things he liked me to do to him with the occasional Crucio. Once more to remind me of my place in his scheme of things. And he was harder to arouse. Things were not following the schedule he had set and that irritated him. So he tended to use Crucio more often."

Eirik said nothing, but he felt the warmth of Eirik's mouth on the corner of his shoulder. It was strangely soothing.

"After he came back that second time, he wouldn't touch me himself. He had a few trusted henchmen who were in charge of discipline. It gave him great pleasure, not to have me raped, but to have me whipped. He used some of his other Death Eaters as the receptacles for the erections the sight of my blood gave him. Which he also used as `lube'."

Severus was quite proud of the firmness of his voice. Being handed over to the Death Eaters, his erstwhile colleagues, had been one of those nightmares that would wake him screaming in his bed at Hogwarts. He'd seen what they could do, not just to Muggles but to those of their own they thought had betrayed them.

"Severus. Beloved."

Severus forced himself open his eyes and focus on Eirik. And pushed what he sensed was the right button. "And so you know all about me. From your father's files. Except they don't seem to be complete. Is there anything else you want to know, so you can have Finnbogi add it to that information? Now's the time to ask, Eirik."

This time the insult struck home. Eirik's snarl was worthy of a true werewolf. "That's the second time you've accused me of gathering information on you to pass on. The next time you do so, so help me Odin, I will...I will..."

"You'll what?" With biting mockery.

"I'll tie you to the bed and suck every drop of cum out of you."

Severus blinked. He knew he must look surprised: he could feel it on his face. "That's how you're going to...to punish me?"

Eirik covered Severus's body with his own. He rested his weight on his elbows while his hands carded themselves in Severus's hair. He kissed him.

Severus opened his mouth wide. His tongue pushed the other's to a side so that he could inhale, feast on that bewitching taste. His own hands, which had dug into the bedclothes as they'd talked, now rose of their own volition and clasped Eirik's head. Maybe... But he stopped himself from thinking any further. He was hungry and he devoured the mouth that only raised his hunger.

Eirik pulled them apart. Severus whimpered at the loss but didn't follow.

Eirik dropped his forehead onto Severus's and panted to catch his breath.

"We need," he gasped, "our wands and lube."

"Do we?"

"Bloody right. And then, Severus Snape, we're going to take turns fucking each other through the mattress. And, once we've caught our breaths, we'll do it again. And then, we'll take a shower, eat a little, sleep - not necessarily in that order - and we'll begin all over again. And again, until you understand that I'm not going anywhere. So the unguent you call up had better come in a large jar, Severus; we're going to need it."

They found their clothing folded and piled at the door of the bedroom. Their wands had been placed on the top. Severus found he was embarrassed by the fact that Ketil had picked up after them. Eirik, he noticed, was barely aware of the fact other than it meant they didn't have to search for their wands.

He handed Severus his and leered happily at him. "Unguent, Severus. And I'm serious when I say it should come in a large jar."

Succumbing to a momentary snit, Severus summoned a jar that held a good liter. Eirik merely looked at it and said, `Well, I guess that'll do. For now."

And then he dragged Severus into the shower.

The last time Severus had showered with anyone had been back as a student. The dormitories had communal showers where they checked out each other's equipment and sometimes, depending on the time and those present, even put it to use. Masturbating contests had been very popular in his day. He assumed that they still were. He wondered if his son...

Eirik's hands were on him, lathered, and slipping and sliding over his body. Severus had no body pride. He had long ago accepted that his shoulders were boney, that his musculature tended to the wiry rather than the developed.

Eirik was standing behind him, his chin resting on Severus's shoulder, his hands roaming over his chest, circling his pecs, his nipples which he flicked with a finger. Severus pulled in his bottom lip under his upper teeth. Damn, but that felt good. He leaned back into the man behind him and put all thought on hold.

Eirik's hands descended to his stomach, fingertips dipping lower, teasing his awakening cock. As he stooped to reach other parts, Eirik's mouth made its way down his spine, nibbling at the ridge of vertebrae, until his hands were between Severus's legs, making him open up more. Those soapy hands concentrated on the juncture of torso and legs, on his balls, coming round to his arse where some teeth were busy playing with his flesh.

"Nice arse, Severus. Anyone ever tell you that you have a arse that is just begging to be tasted?"

Severus swallowed then managed to get out an uncertain, "No."

"Well, you do." And he did.

Severus gasped as the teeth made themselves felt. But only that. No penetration. No pain. No bleeding.

He had mixed feelings about what Eirik was doing. His arse clenched in readiness for pain and all it got was a series of strong...nibbles...that he knew would mark him but would also quickly fade.

Meanwhile, those hands were forcing him to split his attention between what that mouth was doing to him and the responses of his body to those bloody hands.

Hell, when had his knees become so sensitive? And how could the nerves in his calves be linked to his cock? And those in his ankles and the top of his feet?

When had his body changed on him?

Eirik slowly rose to his feet again with his hands retracing this new body of his. When they approached his groin, he jutted it out, wanting them to pay equal attention to his cock. But they slipped by and reshaped his chest instead.

"Your turn."

Severus blinked hard against the water streaming down on him from above. "Huh?"

"To wash me," laughed the voice in his ear.

Severus had to shake his head to understand why the bar of soap was hovering at eye level.

With a deep breath, he took hold of it and turned to face the man watching him with a very pleased smirk on his face.

Severus was surprised to discover he was competitive. He lathered his hands and not turning Eirik around, he slowly duplicated the moves the other had played upon his body.

Severus was used to the feel of his own skin against his hands. Of the bones, the hair that grew coarser as it dropped to his groin. Eirik was smooth, hairless. His body was more muscular than his own, probably from the lifestyle he led which was far less sedentary than Severus's.

Severus didn't lie to himself: one didn't become as proficient in bed as Eirik was from the occasional masturbation session in the shower. And he'd picked up Freya's discretion about Eirik's previous lovers. The man was far too talented, far too beautiful to have had to engage in such sessions as his only - even main - form of sexual release.

Under the slickness of the soap, he took his time to discover the feel of the warm golden skin over muscles, over bone. Cautiously, because he wasn't quite certain just how far he was allowed to go, he used the flat of his hands to mould the shape of muscles across the chest. When all he got was a sigh, he grew more bold. He paid particular attention to the nipples that responded to his care.

"Nice," sighed Eirik. "I like that. I'd prefer your mouth on them, but then you'd end up with a mouthful of soap and I suppose you'd make me pay for that by kissing me."

Severus chewed on his lower lip. If he didn't misunderstand, he was getting direction here. But then, when he'd indicated that he would have liked having his cock touched, Eirik had ignored him. Maybe a little tit for tat.

Eyes holding the yellowish wolf ones, he purposely dropped his hands to the tight stomach.

Eirik closed his eyes as Severus used his fingertips to delineate the muscles he found there. His own stomach was more thin than defined and he wondered why Eirik had spent so much time on it. He was somewhat thrilled with he felt the muscles spasm under his skimming fingertips.

Eirik's cock seemed to like what he was doing as well. It rose high against his stomach, demanding attention. Severus dropped to his knees. There was a limit to his bravery, he discovered. He didn't want to leave this man hungry and unpleased. As he went to take Eirik's cock into his mouth, Eirik pulled back.

Severus looked up.

"You have to learn to tease, Severus. It won't kill me to wait. And anticipation adds to the pleasure."

Severus eyed the cock that was bobbing under the beat of the water. With a certain reluctance, all he did was give a long lick along the thick vein that pulsed blue against the thin white skin.

Eirik's groan was really quite satisfying. So he wanted teasing, did he?

Severus sat back on his heels and, leaning forward, gave another long hard lick to the heavy ball sac.

Eirik's hands dropped to Severus's head as his hips jerked.

Ah, but Eirik had indicated that he wanted to be teased, so though Severus did place his face in the man's groin, it was only to turn his mouth to the soft skin of his inner thighs and bring his teeth into play, as lightly as Eirik had over his arse.

He rather liked the louder reaction that brought about. He liked the curses even more when he used his fingernails on the back of Eirik's knees.

"Like that?" he asked, trying hard to hide his satisfaction at hearing the sounds coming from above.

"Odin! You're a fast learner, Severus Snape."

Severus grinned as his hands slowly skimmed the back of Eirik's thighs, his arse, his lower back as Severus rose to his feet, Eirik's hands still in his hair.

Eirik used that grip to haul him in close for a kiss that devoured. Their erect cocks danced with each other as hips rubbed back and forth under the cooling water.

Eirik turned off the water and pulled Severus out of the shower. Dripping wet, he tugged him, not very reluctantly, into the cool hallway, and then into the warmth of the bedroom. There he took Severus's mouth for a quick kiss and allowed himself to fall backwards onto the bed.

Arms outstretched, body reflecting the firelight wetly, his hair soaking into the bedclothes, Eirik Brekke challenged him. "I'm all yours. Do with me as you will."

Severus stood, head cocked, looking at the man who was offering himself to him. Trusting him. All he managed to say was "You're wet."

Eirik's grin grew wolfish. "Then you'd better lick me dry."

Severus's cock liked that notion. He did , too.

Severus knelt on the bed, between Eirik's wide-spread legs, and took him at his word.

The water was drying in the heat of the room, but Severus was nevertheless very careful to find every damp spot. He began with Eirik's feet, remembering how his cock had responded to Eirik's touching his feet.

Eirik's feet were long, thin with high arches which proved to be especially sensitive to the slide of the tip of his tongue. The first time, Eirik's foot jerked, nearly hitting him in the face.

"Sorry. I'm ticklish there."

Severus could feel his face suddenly widening with a smile.

Eirik moaned. "Why do I get the feeling I'm going to regret giving you that information?"

Severus made certain that he had each ankle clamped down in a fist before he returned his attention to licking every bit of ticklish skin.

He discovered another of Eirik's ticklish points behind his left knee though the skin of his right barely twitched.

Eirik had already said that he'd found Severus's mouth magical on his balls and cock, so he avoided those and concentrated on the line the delineated the hip-bone. Now and then he brought his teeth into play, with growing confidence when Eirik's moans only increased in volume whenever he did so.

Until then, Eirik's hands had been to either side of him, buried in the pillows but now they found Severus's body and roused a fire in him that evaporated whatever wetness was water from his skin.

He'd understood that Eirik liked having his chest come in for special attention. And he gave him that, but this time, he refused, no matter how much Eirik tried, to pay any attention to the hardened pebbles that gleamed dully against the shining skin that surrounded them.

"Damn it, Severus!" Eirik grabbed his head and directed it forcibly to one of the stone hard nubs of flesh.

Severus shook his hands off and raised his head to watch Eirik's face. "I think," he gasped, "you said I could do with you as I wanted. Right now, it does not please me to touch you there. Maybe later."

Eirik choked out a loud moan. "I've created a monster."

Severus stilled. His breath caught and suddenly he knew he had crossed some line.

Eirik opened his eyes, and lost the smile. "Severus?"

He reached up with a hand and drew Severus down to him. His kiss was reassuring in some undefinable way and Severus let his forehead drop onto the other's.

"You take life far too literally, Severus," Eirik gasped, and then added, "Beloved." And he turned his head to plant a kiss in Severus's ear.

Severus raised his head. He tried twice to get out, "A beloved monster?"

Eirik's gaze grew very gentle. "Wait until I do the same thing to you, Severus Snape, and we'll see how you think of me then. I promise you `monster' will be the least of the terms you throw out at me."

"A promise?" Severus found that voice was easier to get out of his throat.

Eirik jerked his hips and his cock found Severus's. "Wolf's honour."

Severus dug his hands into the tangled, still damp hair and buried his face in it. Eirik's hands played across his back until Severus raised his head and, with a growl of his own, took possession of the mouth repeating the oath over and over again in his ear.

When he had gorged himself on this man's taste, Severus reached for the jar of unguent and removed the lid. He offered it to Eirik who dipped his fingers to the first knuckle into the grease. With a grin, he pulled himself up enough to grab Severus's cock and coat it.

Severus shook his head.

"I want you in me, Severus Snape. Are you going to deny me that pleasure?"

Severus swallowed. "It's been a very long time since... I may hurt you and I couldn't..."

Eirik pulled him down for a long kiss. Then he handed Severus the jar. "Prep me." And not only spread his legs wide apart, he pulled up his knees to his chest. "This way. I want to see your face when you come in me."

Severus finally nodded. He scooped out a handful of the grease and made certain that Eirik's arsehole was well greased before he even thought of inserting a finger in. He kept his eyes on Eirik's face all the time his finger penetrated but all he saw was a grin and eyes that were gradually glazing over.

"Another finger. You're not a small man, Severus."

Severus hesitated but then complied. He remembered how Eirik had prepared him and carefully added a third finger.

"Ah, that feels sooooo nice! And it'll feel even better," Eirik's rough voice dropped into a baritone that curled Severus's toes, "when it's your cock in me. Put it in, Severus. I want to feel every inch of you where you belong."

Remembering all too well the sharp pain of ungreased penetration, Severus moved cautiously. He removed his fingers and placed his glans on the stretched hole. He leaned into the hole, lower lip caught under his teeth as he meticulously added enough pressure to make his way past the ring of muscle.

"OH! That's it! All of it, Severus. I want all of that bloody beautiful cock of yours deep in me. Come on, Severus, don't deny me that!"

In spite of the encouragement of Eirik's words, Severus still took his time. It felt marvelous, once he allowed himself to feel the walls of Eirik's anus tighten on him as he inched his way in.

"There!" Severus gasped the word, a victory.

Eirik grinned at him as he lowered his legs and wrapped them around Severus's waist. "Well, is that all you're going to do?"

Severus felt a welling of warmth suddenly chase all the trepidation from his body. He shook his head. He pulled back almost as carefully as he had penetrated, eliciting some heartfelt groans from his partner. "Severus! Fuck me!"

Severus found himself grinning at the frustration in Eirik's voice. He pushed in a little faster, a little harder. Eirik's hips rose and joined him in counterrhythm. Once they went at it a little too fast and Severus's cock slipped out of Eirik's hole. Before Eirik had time to do more than scream "DAMN!", Severus had found his place and his rhythm once more.

As Eirik's head rocked back and forth, his mouth open, gasping in air, his body once more wetly reflecting the firelight, Severus wondered at the pride he felt within himself, that he was the one responsible for this man's writhing, for his moans, for his screamed orgasm.

Then as Eirik's muscles caught and released him, Severus closed his eyes and stopped fighting the need to explode.

Severus found that Eirik hadn't been joking. They took a nap and fed each other some of the food that Ketil must have placed by the bedside while they'd been sleeping. Then Eirik took his time and taught Severus that more than his cock responded to a hot mouth. To hands that raised the skin off his bones and muscles, crying for more of the same touch. That sex was an act of the body but that love-making required more, required the participation of the mind, the voice, the imagination. That it required teasing. Tickling. Smelling. Licking. Sucking. Tasting. Savouring. Even the occasional bout of laughter.

That all was permitted as long as there was no pain. Eirik kept on checking, insisting, "If it hurts, if you don't like something, you have to tell me, Severus. I don't want you to hurt, to feel pain. To do things that make you uncomfortable, that you don't like. I swear if you do anything that I don't like, I'll let you know, too. Wolf's honour."

Once, Eirik went down on him, his mouth and tongue making him see fireworks until he suddenly pulled away, clearing his throat and spitting out. "Hair. The bane of decent cock-sucking. We'll deal with that later."

And they did. Eirik kept his own white-blond bush trimmed down. After a shower that saw far too much water end up on the floor, Severus now sported, thanks to a skillful wave of Eirik's wand, an equally trimmed bush.

He stepped out of the bathroom while Eirik was still drying his hair and went to stare at his nude self in the mirror in his room, the same one that had hung in his bedchamber at Hogwarts.

He examined the man reflected back at him.

Not him.

He didn't recognize this man.

His mouth was swollen, his lips red from being bitten, not just by him. His face was more relaxed than he could ever remember seeing it. His eyes drooped with the residue of their erotic activity. A droplet of water dripped off the end of his hair and it slowly trailed down the wealth of love bites, scratches, whisker burns that littered the front of his body. Even his thighs and legs bore signs of Eirik's attention. His cock looked well and truly fu...

Severus turned and looked over his shoulder to see what marks of possession Eirik had used to claim him on his back. He found himself smiling at the teeth marks, fading but still visible, that branded one buttock. If he remembered correctly, he had been protesting to Eirik that he couldn't get it up again, and Eirik had bitten him to get him to shut up so that he could concentrate on what he was doing. Which had been to get him hard again.

"Looks painful," commented the mirror. "Going to deal with that?" It was used to seeing what his body looked like when he returned from one of Voldemort's summons. Most of the time it had been the only one, other than when he'd needed Poppy's care, to know what had been done to him.

Severus shook his head. "No." No. He wanted to remember this. Besides, his body wasn't the only one sporting marks like these.

Eirik appeared behind him, long hair still wet but no longer dripping. He stood behind Severus and wrapped his arms around his waist. Severus rested his arms on those. Then Eirik dropped his chin onto Severus's shoulder, resting his head against the other's.

"Nice picture. I think I'll paint it."

Severus found the energy to glare at the man in the mirror. "And will you hang it next to the sketches of your mother?"

Eirik grinned sleepily. "No. No one will ever see this one. Only us. We'll hang it in our bedroom. So that when we're one hundred and ninety and have trouble with our memories, we'll never lose this one."

Severus closed his eyes and dared allow himself a glimmer of belief.

Eirik entered the kitchen looking for Severus.

"Master Severus is in the lab. It is time for the Wolfsbane."

Eirik grinned at Ketil who had been very diligent in providing them with food these last two days. The house elf didn't smile back.

"What's wrong, Ketil?" Eirik dropped to a chair at the table and picked up the mug of coffee. He'd enjoyed these last days, teaching Severus the wonders of the male body, talking about inconsequential things, sleeping wrapped around each other. He supposed they'd been lucky to have the time before the real world demanded they pay it attention.

"Master Severus will be busy all day with the potion."

"Yes?"

"He took only coffee."

Ah, yes. Like Freya, Ketil was a great believer in regular meals. And based on his own behaviour when Orm showed up with one of his when he was painting, he could only assume that Ketil was equally used to being ignored by Severus.

"Make up a tray for two, Ketil."

Ketil snapped his fingers and one already prepared appeared on the table next to him. Eirik only laughed.

Casting a heat spell around himself and the tray, Eirik went off to feed his lover.

For once the wind wasn't blowing and that made it easier to open the door with only one hand. Severus was already glaring at it when he entered. Eirik held up the tray in explanation.

"Where can I set it down so it's not in your way?"

Severus looked irritated, but nodded towards the worktable that he wasn't using.

Eirik raised the covers on the plates. The aroma of eggs, porridge swimming in brown sugar and cream, bacon and sausages filled the air about him.

Severus had turned back to the ingredients wall and was gathering bottles, pulling out small drawers, and taking all to his own worktable, by the fire. There was a variety of tools set up there, waiting to be used; scales, knives, measuring cups, a cutting board. A smallish cauldron was sitting in the sink, ready to be scrubbed.

"If you're like me when I begin putting out the paints I'll need, you're still on this planet. So we can talk and maybe I can help you."

Severus only raised that well-trained eyebrow of his. Eirik grinned back. "Well, at least I can feed you."

"Eirik..."

"Severus. Listen to me. I know that this is very important to you and I promise you, I understand. But you're going to be here all day working on this and, frankly, passing out from hunger into Alexander's pot of Wolfsbane is going to hold you back a lot more than my being here. Unless you need to spell the ingredients as you select them?"

Severus leaned back against his worktable and crossed his arms over his chest. Eirik forced himself to look back equally seriously. What he wanted to do was go over there and shove Severus back onto that table and take him there. Not for today. But one day, soon, he promised himself.

"No, I don't need to spell them as I gather them. They need to be prepared before I begin that part of the potion."

Eirik nodded, picked up a sausage, bit off about half of it and, making his way over to Severus, offered him the other half. Severus glared at him but raised his hand to take the sausage. Eirik shook his head. "You can't afford to get your hands greasy. Open up."

One day, thought Eirik, he was going to ask Severus to do something that he'd never done and not see his eyes grow wary the way they did. Now he only waited until Severus did open his mouth and, with a smile, he popped in the rest of his sausage. "I feed. You chew."

His reward for the teasing tone was a lessening of the wariness. He let Severus get on with his preparations, with his cutting and weighing, his measuring. Every time he was certain that Severus had swallowed his last mouthful, he came over and offered another. A spoonful of porridge, his hand under the utensil to catch any drip; a forkful of eggs, a buttered piece of hot roll covered with jam, a piece of bacon or sausage that he'd nibbled on before presenting it to Severus who, with growing comfort, would open his mouth to receive.

Breakfast was completed at about the same time as Severus was truly ready to begin work on the potion.

"Aren't you going?"

Eirik shook his head. "I'd like to watch you, if you permit. I promise not to talk to you, not to make any noise. I just want to see how you do this."

Severus had that look of wary irritation again.

"Please. If my presence does bother you, you only have to look at the door and I'll leave. But I really would like to watch you work."

Severus made a moue of indecision. "It's safe to assume that you'll be sketching."

Eirik shrugged. "As you need to work, so do I."

"At least you're quiet with it. Oh, I suppose so. But if I ask you to go, it's because you're interfering with my concentration. At one point that can have disastrous effects on the potion."

"Understood. I promise you, I'll do nothing that will affect Alexander."

Severus nodded. He turned back to his table and began double-checking the quantity of ingredients. Eirik wondered if this was normal procedure, or only because it was a potion which involved his child.

Eirik made himself comfortable on the work table, his sketching pad at hand, and began planning the painting he was going to make of his lover working.

"What are you going to call it?"

Eirik looked up and found Severus watching him with that resigned look so many of his family wore whenever he drew them. He grinned. "Genius at Work."

Severus actually laughed. "What a misnomer!"

"Why?" Eirik set down the pad. "It's the perfect title for the man who invented the Wolfsbane."

Severus shook his head. He carefully rinsed out the cauldron he was using. "I didn't create the Wolfsbane, Eirik."

"That's not what Finnbogi's research said."

"Then Finnbogi is not infallible. No. I merely read up on all the work that had been previously done and analyzed it. What worked and what hadn't. I eliminated the hadn't and built on the had. That didn't take any genius. Only experimentation."

Eirik was ready to challenge that, but something in Severus's demeanour told him that he was already stepping into that other world of his and he kept quiet.

Freya had been right, he thought, looking at the last sketch he'd done of Severus's face as he chanted over the cauldron, adding this and that: they were alike when it came to work. Several of his former lovers had accused him of not being aware of anything other than his canvas when he was painting. They were right, he wasn't. And right now, Severus was just as oblivious.

Eirik silently moved back so that he could sit cross-legged on the table. He rested his elbows on his knees, propped his chin up on his fists, and thought as he watched.

He had broken through one set of barriers with this man. In bed they were a good match. And what Severus didn't have by way of experience, he made up with the delight of discovery.

The second time they'd made love Eirik had wanted Severus be the one to take him. And he'd insisted on their doing it face to face, so that he could watch Severus's eyes. There'd been fear in them, fear of his hurting Eirik. Eirik had almost had to impale himself to get Severus to understand that he truly did want Severus's cock in him.

Right then, he'd also wanted Voldemort's neck between his hands.

Voldemort who, according to Finnbogi's files, had given Severus the approval and encouragement to expand his talent and skills with potions which had been denied him. Who had used Severus's hunger for such things to bring him over to the Dark Arts, to brand him with the Death Eater's mark. A wizard, he now knew, who had held Severus's need for experimentation over his head and made him pay for that with his subjugation.

But Finnbogi's research had been very thorough. It had pointed out that there had been limits to Severus's hunger and, when he'd realized what was happening, what use Voldemort was making of his potions, he had gone back to accept whatever punishment would be meted out. Only to be sent back to spy. And to endure further abjection.

Why the bloody hell hadn't Dumbledore put an end to that? Why the fuck had he allowed Severus to do that in the first place? Wasn't he supposed to have Severus's best interests at heart? How could a dead spy be of any help?

Eirik knew he needed to calm down. He took a very quiet deep breath, not wanting to attract Severus's attention and have him ask Eirik to leave. He let it out very, very slowly and quietly.

Well, now Severus had Eirik - and others - in his life who cared for him..

Freya was as protective of Severus as she had been of Inga. Eirik hadn't needed more than that last glare of hers to know that if she came back and found Severus had been hurt, he would pay for that.

And Severus had Alexander. Whom he loved. No. Adored.

Eirik watched as the intense concentration on Severus's face deepened and yet softened. Alexander had told him that Changes were much easier since he'd begun taking his father's potion. When Eirik had casually asked Bera Hillswick about those taking her potions, the Village Potion Maker hadn't mentioned that aspect. He thought that now he understood. There was an ingredient missing in hers. Severus's love.

He felt a flash of jealousy. Not good, that. Jealousy of Severus's love for his son. Something that Eirik needed to deal with and quickly before it became a problem. Alexander, he reluctantly admitted, would always come first with Severus. Could he live with that?

Eirik knew that he tended to be rather possessive of things that he loved. He wasn't much of a sharer. Maybe that was due to having been brought up in a household where there were so many children, so many petty jealousies, so much anger at any sign of favouritism on the part of their father. On the whole, the children of Oddvar Brekke got along together. All things considered. But now and then, a new wife, a new child, was the cause of disruption and there could be strife in the Children's Wing.

The children of the First Wife had never quite gotten used to the situation. They hated family gatherings and, on the whole, couldn't hide their disdain of their siblings and of the other members of the Coven.

Although he was known for his stubbornness as a child, Eirik had not been as aggressive as some of his siblings. Rather than fight over possessions, he would instead draw or paint his opinion on the matter. His father had been the one to point out to him that not everybody enjoyed having their foibles hanging on a wall for all to see, and that discretion was a good thing for anyone, no matter which career they had chosen, to foster.

His father had never really forbidden Eirik to select painting as his career. He just couldn't see it as one. Even his mother, who had been the flightiest of Oddvar's wives - a professor of Comparative Mythologies - had referred to his painting as a `nice little hobby'.

He'd ignored them all and now had a name as a portraitist and a innovator of Expressionism.

He liked the limelight. And he'd picked for a partner a man who had a child, who would force him to share his limelight.

He liked Alexander. The boy was bright, outgoing, had a brain that he was not afraid to use. He had courage. He'd been ready to challenge him... Who the hell was he fooling? Alexander had been ready to take Eirik on for his father's sake.

For the love he bore his father.

And that was the point, wasn't it, Eirik, he told himself.

These two loved each other. And they'd said so to each other aloud and they'd shown that love to those about them.

Severus hadn't said it to him. Apart from in bed, he hadn't shown it.

It would be rather ironic if he, Eirik, the gallivantor of the Brekkes, had fallen in love with a man who was unable to return it. To him.

Oh, Severus could love. All he had to do was look at the man as he prepared Alexander's Wolfsbane potion. His face glowed with the love he felt for his son.

And if Eirik forced him to chose between his son or his new lover, Eirik knew, without a moment's hesitation, that he would be the loser.

So he had to accept that Alexander would be the first and deepest love of Severus's life.

He caught the sigh before it left his mouth. Freya had once told him that he still had some growing up to do. Not that long ago, when he thought about it. He guessed this was what she'd meant.

Good thing that Alexander was so easy to love and that Severus was more than worth it.

But one day, Severus was going to look at him the way he did now. With all the love of which he was capable. But it would be the love for a partner, not for a child.

And that was something Eirik could live with.

Severus was returning from having sent the Wolfsbane on its way when he noticed that there were not one but two house elves in the kitchen. The second one was wearing clothing similar to Ketil, but splashed with paint.

"Orm, I presume?"

The house elf grinned at him and elbowed Ketil with delight.

"Ketil tells Orm that Sir is very quick."

Whatever response Severus might have made to that was pushed aside when Eirik, who was sitting at the table, a letter in his hand, began spouting a litany of sounds which, from the house elves' grimaces, Severus assumed meant that he was not pleased with the contents of the letter.

"It's a bloody summons. To Oslo. From my cher papa. Time for the annual showing of the colours at the General Meeting of the IFOW."

Severus shrugged. "Then you must go."

Eirik sighed, pulled out his most put-upon face. "All those politicians and diplomats. Having to be polite to them. To sound so bloody interested in their little stupidities."

Severus didn't bother to hide his grin. He pulled out a chair and sat. "Then don't go."

Eirik rubbed his eyes. "The problem is that my agent patrols the hall in hope of picking up commissions for me. If I don't go, I'll be booked to paint idiots for the next two years."

"Yes, I can see where that might be a problem. So you must go."

Eirik glared at him. "Don't enjoy this so much. You're included in the summons." And he tossed the letter at Severus.

"What!"

Eirik tipped back his chair and grinned. "Father sees you now as an official member of the family. Family shows up for this. Well, it's one of the few things he asks of all of us. And it's not as though there aren't any rewards: in turn, he does support our projects. And it's only for twenty-four hours. Mind you," he sighed dramatically, causing the two houses elves to snicker, "they're the longest twenty-four hours in the year."

Severus looked up from the letter. "He's serious. He wants a man who is under Pronouncement of Banishment in his own country to appear at an international gathering!"

Eirik grinned. "You're family, Severus. All things considered, that takes precedence in father's mind."

"Yes, well, I doubt that many others will see it that way."

"You'd be surprised. Father has built his reputation on making others see things his way. Orm! Ketil! We'll need formal gowns as well as a couple of changes for the meals and afternoon tea." He looked up at Severus. "I suppose all you have is black?"

Severus glared up from rereading the official invitation - in both their names! - which had been personalized with Oddvar's scrawled, `I'm looking forward to seeing the two' - underlined heavily - `of you there.'

"Yes."

Eirik shook his head. "Well, I suppose it makes the selection of robe much easier. You don't have to worry about co-ordinating with the Coven and accidentally treading on someone's toes."

At Severus's baffled expression, Eirik only smiled. "You'll see. Family politics. Send a note off to Alexander and then we'll have to go. The damn thing is tomorrow."

The President's Personal Assistant was waiting for them with an itinerary in his hand when they arrived late that night. Finnbogi grinned unrepentantly at Eirik's loud and overly dramatic groan when he'd read it. "Damn it, Finn! The Russians for breakfast! I can barely tolerate them for supper, but first thing in the morning!"

Severus sat back to watch the interplay between the two. Finnbogi's only response to Eirik's complaints was to grin more widely.

"No! Definitely not! I'm not eating lunch with the Italians. Those witches are all fingers! My arse is still bruised from last year."

"They specifically requested your presence at their table."

Eirik growled, "I've noticed that Severus is never seated at my table. Not for breakfast, not for lunch." He scowled threateningly, "If you want me to be at all co-operative, you'll see to it that Severus is next to me at every sitting."

Finnbogi made a bit of a production out of rummaging in his pockets for a notebook and quill, and making note of that. "It will require some rearrangements," he said with a deep sigh, "but I suppose it really wouldn't be fair to let Professor Snape loose without his knowing the situation."

Eirik frowned. "You bastard," he said, with reluctant respect. "You kept that in reserve to see that I'd agree."

Finnbogi looked far too innocent: Severus tried to hide his smile, but Eirik had seen him. "See, even Severus knows I'm right."

"You'll notice that supper is with the Americans," Finnbogi pointed out, sidestepping the need to respond.

"What did my agent promise you in return for that?" Eirik added for Severus's sake. "My exhibition opens in New York in two weeks."

"A sneak peek at your new exhibition for the President."

Eirik groaned even more loudly. "That means I can expect a critique from my father at some point or another."

Finnbogi ignored him and turned to Severus. "Professor, we would all greatly appreciate it if you kept Northlander, the painter, under control. He tends to get bored and occasionally creates havoc."

Eirik managed to look offended. "I do not. I just won't play those political games that everyone else seems to be so fond of. I don't know why Father insists that I appear at these things when he knows that."

"For the colour and the possibility of excitement?" Severus looked at Finnbogi who nodded in turn.

"I see that the Professor understands very well."

Severus looked around at people who were busy `working the room', to quote Finnbogi. Eirik hadn't been joking about the situation. Though he'd been a spy, Severus had not been involved in the political aspect of the war against Voldemort. He went in, reported to Voldemort, carefully listened in to all the discussions he could overhear, made note of whomever was there, took whatever punishment Voldemort had decided to mete out, and then returned to report to Dumbledore. What had happened to his reports after that, he'd had no idea.

The level of tension in the room was unbelievable. More so that no one else seemed to be noticing it.

Leisurely exchanges of forced politeness made Severus grit his teeth. Public smiles followed by behind the hand glares made him uneasy. It was like being at a Death Eater gathering all over again. The only good points were the food, the wine - Eirik had growled at him the first time he'd caught Severus with a glass of vodka in his hand - and the fact that his was not the only black robe.

He'd understood too what Finnbogi had meant about keeping Eirik under control. Eirik's patience was far more limited than his own and he'd had to extricate Eirik away from a couple of terse exchanges before his opinion got away from him.

He himself managed to avoid many of those by keeping on the move, but he hadn't been totally successful. One or two of the family had been genuinely pleased to greet him again. There were inquiries about Alexander that were more than cursory. It warmed him to know that his son was truly well liked. There had also been more than one comment, from those he seemed to remember were involved in politics themselves, about how finally someone appeared to be keeping Eirik in line. Severus found that he was offended on Eirik's behalf. This was not his scene and if he embarrassed them so much, then his presence should not be required.

"I'm surprised to see you here, Snape. Shouldn't you be hiding under your rock?"

Severus slowly turned around to face someone he couldn't ever remember meeting. The accent though was a dead give-away. Someone from Britain.

"I believe you have the advantage of me," Severus pulled out his driest, most sarcastic tones.

"Cranston. Philmore Cranston. My brother is in charge of the Department of Aurors. I believe you have met him."

Severus allowed the old Snape to rise to the front while inwardly he could hear the door of an Azkaban cell closing behind him.

"Ah, Representative Cranston, there you are. I've been looking for you." Finnbogi smoothly stepped in between the two wizards glaring coldly at each other. "The Minister for Iceland seems interested in discussing some trade issue that she says has been of particular interest to you. She's asked me to bring you to her."

And with that, Finnbogi slipped his arm under Cranston's and diplomatically steered him away from Severus. When the next Light Elf passed by with a tray of drinks, Severus exchanged his barely touched glass of wine for one of vodka.

"Please, Professor, wine not vodka." Finnbogi took the empty glass out of his hand and replaced it with one of wine. "It'll be easier to keep Cranston away from you for the rest of the evening than it will be to deal with Northlander." And before Severus could comment, he was gone again.

And Severus finally understood Eirik's comments about colour co-ordination with the Coven. Each member wore her own colours, rather like Hogwarts and its Houses had theirs. And the children of that particular union wore hues of the same. Eirik's mother, who had merely glanced at Severus with the questions, "Is that your latest, Eirik? More mature than your normal choices, isn't he?" favoured sky blue and so Eirik was wearing a robe that was within the same colour spectrum.

"It's so that someone doesn't accidentally say something offensive about one of the President's former wives in the hearing of her child," explained Finnbogi to Severus, when he and Eirik had arrived for breakfast, indeed a dry event with the Russians, who were even less creatures of the morning than he and Eirik were. "One year there was nearly a diplomatic incident when someone did. This makes things so much easier."

"You were right," Severus acknowledged to Eirik as they dressed for supper. Eirik had selected a robe of delft blue; Severus draped his jet black robe about his shoulders. He wondered what the British representative would have to say if he saw the hem, collar, cuffs were embroidered with black versions of the Slytherin snake.

"About what?"

"About the length of the hours."

Eirik sighed loudly. "And the longest are yet to come. I swear, I don't think this day will ever end."

Severus held Eirik's braid doubled as he fit a long silver clasp around the club of hair.

"Well, the tension alone will keep us going."

Eirik suddenly smiled. Severus was beginning to recognize that smile. From their bed. It meant that Eirik wanted to offer a new experience to his lover.

"What?" Severus tried to sound resigned, but he had trouble with the small fire of desire that was building in his groin.

Eirik turned around and wrapped his arms around Severus. He kissed him, staring with just a tease at the end of his mouth. Then he moved on rather purposefully to take possession of the wet heat that opened readily for him. And he kept at it until Severus melted in his arms.

"Severus," Eirik whispered in an ear, "lean over the chair."

Severus gasped but complied. He was growing fond of having Eirik's cock up his arse. He gripped the arms of the chair and waited while Eirik folded his robe over his shoulders, while his hands undid the buttons of his trousers, when they slipped down both trousers and underwear. He bit back the moan when he felt Eirik's greased fingers enter him, allowed it out when his lover angled his knuckles just so and brushed against Severus's prostate, a part of his body he'd thought he lacked until Eirik had showed him where it was. He shoved his hips back, indicating that he was more than ready to be penetrated. And he was. But not by Eirik's cock.

Whatever it was, it was hard, long and filled him.

Eirik pulled him up, turned him around and took possession of his mouth again. Then with a grin, he straightened Severus's garments and made him presentable again.

"What..."

"It's called a butt plug. I've spelled it so you don't have to worry. It won't come out, not until the evening's over. It should keep us both more interested in tonight's proceedings. Walk to the door and back and you'll understand."

Severus stopped after two steps. He glared over his shoulder at Eirik who was watching him with that feral look which went directly to Severus's cock.

"When we are allowed to find our bed, I'll take it out and fill you with my cock. Not before." And Eirik took Severus by the arm and led him down to the evening's gathering.

As before, Severus kept on the move but this time, it was with the constant reminder of Eirik. And every now and then, as they waited for everyone to gather to go in for supper, Eirik would pass by, whispering things like, "Tighten that arse of yours for me." "Am I still in there, filling you?" "Think how much better you'll feel when I'm pumping away in you." "Are you thinking how you'll feel when I come in you?"

By the time they went into supper, Severus was flushed from more than the heat. And the heat in Eirik's eyes didn't help him cool down. Neither having to sit for nearly two hours of leisurely eating and speeches . Severus tried hard to keep still but Eirik would lean over and, unconsciously, Severus would move towards him, shifting the pressure on the plug in him. And Eirik, Severus quickly realized, did it too often for it not to be deliberate.

Severus was hard by dessert. He glared at his lover who was ignoring him for a discussion with his neighbour on the latest theatre season in New York.

When they stood up, joining the rest of the gathering in a standing ovation, Eirik moved to behind Severus. Severus felt one of his hands settle on his hip, the other... The plug began wriggling from the pressure Eirik was putting on it. Severus kept on applauding but he closed his eyes and began mentally reciting the order of ingredients for the most difficult potion his brain could call up.

When Oddvar Brekke signalled the end of both the evening and the General Meeting, Eirik stepped to Severus's side and, sending a wide smile his way, applauded loudly.

Before anyone could come over to them, to hold them back, Severus grabbed Eirik's arm and, with an expression on his face that too students of Hogwarts would have recognized, towed his grinning lover out of the room, up the stairs and into the room they had been assigned.

The door to their room had barely closed when Severus snarled, "Let see how funny you find this!"

And he dropped to his knees, pushed Eirik's robe aside, ripped his trousers open, and took hold of his cock. It didn't take all that long for his lover to be gasping, his hips jutting out, working in rhythm to Severus's mouth.

He knew Eirik was close to coming when Severus released his hot, wet cock into the cooler air of the room. Eirik opened his eyes and, panting, glared at Severus who had risen, stepped back, arms folded over his chest, and was now watching Eirik's scowl with a similar expression on his face. Let's see how Eirik liked being left aching as he had been all evening!

Eirik found his wand and Severus was suddenly naked, standing in a pool of clothing. Another gesture and Eirik was equally naked. As Eirik took a determined, purpose-ridden stride towards him, Severus moved faster. He spun Eirik around, facing the wall, and slipped two greased fingers inside him. Severus found what he was looking for and Eirik moaned. He pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his cock. It was quick, with just the right amount of roughness which he now knew delighted Eirik. And which made him harder.

Eirik's arse tightened around him, and that was it: Severus came hard.

He had barely caught his breath when Eirik shifted them around. Now Severus was the one facing the wall. He rested his forehead against it and waited while Eirik carefully wriggled the butt plug out. Severus moaned. It had been amply greased and Severus felt well prepared for Eirik's cock. He sighed loudly when he felt Eirik slip into him.

Severus's body had been well trained this night. He clenched his arse muscles and Eirik gasped with the sensation. Eirik leaned over and growled, "Milk me!"

And with a thrilling sense of accomplishment, Severus did as his lover had asked, not bothering to hide his victory when Eirik leaned against his back, his hands braced to either side and not able to hang on any more, pumped himself deep into Severus's arse and came.

"The next time," Eirik gasped, "I'm adding a cock ring."

Eirik lay on their bed and sighed happily. In the two weeks since Oslo, Severus seemed to have found a new confidence in himself. At first, Eirik had been the leader in their bed. Only in their bed. Out of it, Severus knew his abilities and was secure in them.

Now, it was as though he'd decided to claim his part of their bed as well. He led as often as Eirik did. He was a quick learner and had a repertoire of moves and actions that drove Eirik wild.

It was no longer a case of teacher and student and, though Eirik had loved being the one to teach Severus the joys and pleasures of the body, he found that having a partner in bed was equally satisfying.

Maybe that was what had been absent in his previous relationships. He'd been the one to top, and even when he'd been submissive, he and his partner had both known it was a game on his part.

Severus's personality was too strong to allow him to submit all the time to Eirik. Oh, he'd done it with Voldemort, but there had been extenuating circumstances. And Eirik discovered that he was willing to hand over control to Severus, knowing that it wouldn't be used against him.

Face it, he told himself, he trusted the man. And that was something he'd never been able to say about any former bed-mate.

Eirik rolled over and watched as Severus finished dressing. He squinted and tried to replace that long-coated suit with something more casual. Something that would emphasize the sleekness of his lover.

"I'm going to love showing you New York. Not just the magical part, but the Muggle side of it."

Oops. There was that slight stiffening again. Severus only grunted in response, but Eirik slipped off the bed to go wrap his arms around his man. "The restaurants alone a worth this trip. You can find any cuisine you could possibly crave without having to leave the city."

Severus's smile was a tad insincere. "Just so long as we're back in time for me to make Alexander's Wolfsbane."

Eirik listened not to the words, but to the hint of trepidation in Severus's voice. He was going to find out what the hell this was about. Another barrier that needed to be brought down.

"Darling!"

Severus blinked several times as Eirik's New York agent greeted him with a series of air kisses.

The witch had purple and pink hair that stood up as if she'd just had a shock of some kind, a fusca dress that showed off her breasts down to the aureole which was painted bright red, said dress ending just at the apex of her thighs, where a flash of skin led to a pair of equally fusca thigh-high leather boots with unbelievably high stiletto heels. Her open robe matched the purple of her hair, the colour of her lips, her eyelids, and the tips of her longnailed fingers.

So that's what harpies did, thought Severus. They worked as agents in America.

As she blathered away at Eirik, Severus glanced around the room. This was really the first time he was seeing any of Eirik's work. Oh, he'd seen sketches and had a peek at the piece he'd worked on that day in his room, but this was his first real chance to see other finished pieces.

"Severus, I'd like you to meet Luciana Fortunata, my agent out here. Luc, Professor Severus Snape."

The harpy held out her hand and Severus took it in his. "A pleasure to meet you, Madam Fortunata."

The agent took her time looking him over. Severus knew that he wasn't what usually accompanied Eirik to his openings. He sighed mentally: it was obvious that he wouldn't fit in here any more than he usually did.

"Riky, this one has manners." Her voice was definitely American. "Will wonders never cease! Sevvie, please made it Luc and make yourself at home. I'm going to need Riky here for a little while. Try the hors d'oeuvres. The shrimp're really quite good." And she pulled Eirik away into a corner.

Sevvie, thought Severus, was almost as bad as Riky. Not his world, he reminded himself.

A waiter dressed in black presented him with a tray that held a platter of shrimp. Severus shook his head. "No, thank you. I've already eaten tonight."

"And what will Sir be drinking this evening?"

Severus raised a disquieting eyebrow. "Sir," he said in his driest tones, "will drink the wine."

He was making his way slowly around the exhibition when the waiter presented him with a glass of better than expected red. He nodded his thanks after taking a sip and went back to his perusal of the artwork that hung on the walls of the gallery.

Until he had met Eirik Northlander, Severus had never heard of him. Not surprising, really. His world had been that of the classroom and Voldemort, his lab when he had the time. But like Finnbogi, he too knew how to research.

Eirik Northlander had appeared on the Art scene twenty years ago. His portraits of people were sensitive, honest without being brutal, and selective. Just because someone wanted to be painted by Northlander didn't mean it would happen. One needed to have something that appealed to the artist in order to be accepted for a sitting. He'd accepted the commission to paint a well-known New York Auror, not because of his rank, but because the man collected Muggle toy train engines.

Severus had to admit that the portrait of the man with the severe look of a high-ranking Auror was made whimsical by the collection of toy engines that peeked in, out and about from under his heavy robes.

There was a small plaque on the lower edge of the frame that indicated the portrait was actually on loan for this exhibition.

Severus shook his head. He doubted that any of the Aurors he had encountered would have allowed themselves to be painted in this manner. Or if they had, it certainly would not have been loaned for public viewing. Maybe it had something to do with America.

There was another portrait of a woman which, Severus read, was also on loan to the gallery. A tall, elegant dowager of some pureblood family with ties to Europe. If Severus hadn't known of her, he certainly had heard the name. The woman was also an artist and Eirik had reproduced some of her more famous pieces in the background. The way she smiled at Severus indicated that she was well pleased with her being portrayed in a paintstained robe, with splotches on her cheek and on the tip of her aristocratic nose.

Eirik Northlander had also made a name for himself in the style called Expressionism. Lots of slashes of colour, forms that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the watcher's heartbeat. Some picked up the emotional state of the watcher and changed in hue accordingly. Some continually changed as if made of shifting sand.

Others exuded their own emotional state. Well, thought Severus, Eirik's emotional state. He shook his head. Severus liked to keep his emotions to himself. He wondered where Eirik found the courage to display his state of mind to any passer-by. Still, they were powerful images and they throbbed with life.

Severus looked around to see if the harpy was done with Eirik. He found her but not his lover.

"Excuse me," she was talking to some pompous-looking official, "have you seen Eirik?"

"Eirik? Oh, you mean Riky. Try the men's. He's probably barfing."

Severus wondered at her unconcern as he asked the waiter where he could find the `men's'.

The door was locked. Severus took out his wand; "Alohomora!" Yes, inside the single toilet `men's', Eirik Northlander was indeed `barfing'.

Severus shook his head and went to hold his lover's head, pulling the end of the long braid out of the porcelain, then the nearest robe sleeve which also seemed to have joined the last meal Eirik had shared with him.

"Go 'way..."

Severus ignored Eirik. He did however spell the door locked from the inside, making certain that they would not be surprised by anyone wanting to use the facility.

He managed to get Eirik's robe off. It would require a cleaning spell before he would be able to wear it back out. Severus tossed it onto the tall waste disposal unit. He knelt next to Eirik and held him again as another bout of vomiting hit him hard.

Without letting go of the man, Severus wanded a glass of water and a cool, wet cloth over from the sink and counter. He waited until the bout seemed over. With a slight wrinkling of his nose at the rancid odour, Severus flushed the toilet. He helped Eirik raise his head and held the glass at this mouth. "Rinse, don't swallow. That's it. Spit. And again. Good. Now swallow some. Just a sip. Ah, not a good idea." He waited until this bout was over to have Eirik go through the rinsing routine again, minus the sip of water. This time, he also wiped his face down with the cool cloth.

Then he sat on the floor and pulled his ashen, sweaty, trembling lover into his arms.

Eirik snuggled into his warmth and Severus managed to open his robe and wrap the ends of it around the man.

They sat that way, silent, for several minutes. Severus rested his cheek on Eirik's head. "Better now?"

Eirik sighed. "Yes."

"Is it always like this?"

"Yes."

"Nerves?"

"Yes."

Severus rubbed a soothing pattern on Eirik's back. "I find it strange that someone with your talent reacts this way to an exhibition. Until I opened that door I would have sworn that you were completely calm about the occasion."

"You can add acting to my talents, such as they are."

Severus thought about that. "Eirik, do you doubt your talent? Why?"

Eirik snuggled closer, slipping his arms around Severus's waist. "Eirik Brekke has the pathetic and sad delusion of the mediocre artist that he has talent."

"You're quoting someone."

"Yes."

"An idiot. You have allowed an idiot to make you this ill before an exhibition."

"Not just this one. Every one since that first one. Haven't you ever wondered why I paint under the name of Northlander and not Brekke?"

Severus sighed. "No, I can't truly say that I have. I suppose, now that I think about it, you wished to differentiate yourself from all those political Brekkes."

Eirik raised his head and settled it down on Severus's shoulder. He seemed warmer now; his teeth had stopped chattering and he looked less green. "True, to a certain extent. Actually, when I had my first exhibition, it was in Oslo and it was reviewed by a critic who had some grudge against Father."

"The one you quoted?"

Eirik nodded. "Father found it funny. He said any idiot looking at my work would see the talent there. Actually, it was the first time he'd said anything positive about my work. I was publically disemboweled and privately acknowledged."

"You didn't find it amusing."

Eirik forced himself to sit up and out of Severus's arms. Severus wondered if Luc was going to come looking for him soon.

Eirik shook his head. "I destroyed every piece. I've never shown in Oslo since then." He got to his feet. "My next exhibition was here in New York and I used a new name so that no one would associate it with that other one."

Severus got up and, as Eirik splashed cold water onto his face, he picked up the teal robe that seemed to be Eirik's favourite and spelled it clean. Eirik grimaced at his reflection in the mirror as he spelled the vomit out of his hair.

Severus gently slapped his hands away and undid the now untidy braid. Staring at his lover in the mirror, he calmly redid it, folding the silver clasp on its end.

Calmer now, Eirik watched as Severus settled the robe on his shoulders, turned him around and brushed something off the front. All serious, Severus held out his hand, offering him a small white item. "Mint."

Eirik suddenly grinned. "Thanks." He popped it into his mouth. At the door, he stopped and turned to face Severus. "I have to be a salesman tonight. Which means I won't have much time to be with you. Please, don't disappear on me."

Severus raised one eyebrow, insulted at the suggestion. "I shall wait till you're ready to go back to the hotel." Then, he pulled Eirik into his arms and kissed him, not passionately, but with all the reassurance he could give.

Eirik sighed. "Thanks. I needed that."

Luciana Fortunata was waiting for them in the hallway, leaning back against the wall, a glass of champagne in each hand. Her eyebrows rose high when she saw Severus behind Eirik. She handed Eirik one of the glasses and he tossed it back.

"Medical purposes," explained the harpy to Severus as she took Eirik by the arm. "Okay, boys and girls, showtime!"

Eirik, thought Severus three hours later, might not like politics, but he was good at them. Maybe not those of the diplomatic scene, but he certainly could manipulate those of the Art scene.

Severus stood on the sidelines watching as Eirik charmed some, flirted with others, held serious discussions on the meaning of his work with a select group of what Severus decided had to be critics of some kind. Luciana Fortunata saw to it that he wasn't monopolized by any one person, couple or group, that he worked the room as well as Oddvar Brekke worked a political gathering.

At one point, when the waiter who seemed to be following Eirik around with a tray of champagne came close by, Severus gestured to him. "How many of those has he had?"

Before the man could inform him that it was none of his business, Severus fixed his best glare on him. The man found himself swallowing hard. "Seven."

"Replace it with that fizzy water stuff."

"Sir, I really...."

"Or I'll see to it that you never reproduce."

The man took Severus very seriously. The next time Eirik picked up a glass and drank from it, he gestured in an irritated fashion for the waiter who must have informed him of Severus's threat because Eirik looked around the room until he found his lover. For a moment, Severus thought that Eirik would challenge this decision he'd taken on his behalf. They had a bit of a glaring contest which Severus assumed he won: every time he checked during the rest of the showing, Eirik had a glass of the fizzy stuff in his hand.

"Have you seen his newest piece?"

Severus looked at the harpy who was twirling her glass by the stem.

"No, I can't say that I have. It hasn't been easy getting close enough to really look at anything. Too many people."

Her smile was like the cat who had drunk all the cream. "Not too many people. Just not enough pieces." She indicated that he should follow her. The initial crowd had lessened enough for them to approach the far wall with ease. One of the three paintings hanging there was the one that Severus had seen Eirik paint.

The splashes of bold, vital colours were continually shifting. Off centre, low to the right, was a solid slash of black.

"At first glance," said the harpy, "that black seems to be totally out of place, doesn't it? But then, while you're watching, you realized that it's the only stable part of the picture. That you can come back to it and it'll still be there. Dependable. Unlike the colours which are shifting all over the rest of the canvas. You never know where they're going to be."

She turned to look at him. "You're not going away, are you? You're here for this exhibition and you'll be here for the next. And the one after that. And the many others that will follow that one."

Severus said nothing, merely kept on looking at the picture.

"Yes." She toasted him with her glass before emptying it. "You're not going away."

He turned his glance onto her. "What makes you so certain?" When he himself wasn't.

She shrugged and gestured to the waiter for another glass. "Well, of all the people who have accompanied Riky to an opening, you're the first who's held his head while he barfs. He let you change his champagne for fizzy water. I've never managed to get him to do that. He holds his booze well, but I only dared suggest that once." She grinned at the memory.

"And then there's that." She pointed to the picture they'd been looking at. "I know he painted that after he met you. It'll be interesting what else you inspire him to do. By the way, I think that's the very best thing he's ever done. Up `til now. I've had three people tonight bidding to buy it, but I'd sold it before I'd even hung it."

"I may not know much about exhibitions, but isn't that a little out of the norm? Selling before you even open."

She nodded. "Hard to deny President Brekke some privileges."

"Brekke bought that?"

She nodded. "He's never done that before. Oh, he usually comes to see what Riky's showing before we open, but this time, he took a long look at it and smiled. He told Finny to top whatever I was offered by 500 galleons."

Severus couldn't prevent the gasp.

The harpy patted him on the arm. "In case you don't get it, you're the slash of black. His anchor. `Bout time." She turned and walked away.

It was finally over. They were the last to leave the gallery. Severus was tired. Eirik was, to his mind, giddy, overly-excited. The harpy looked as she had six hours earlier, ready to take on the night. He assumed that she was as there was a much younger male waiting for her by the door.

"Well, loves, another huge success. The people who weren't here will be kicking themselves tomorrow for having chosen other engagements over this one." She kissed Eirik on the cheek. "Riky, you're brilliant. Everything sold. Start working on the next show."

She hauled Severus down for a very loud, wet kiss on the cheek. "Your job is just beginning, Sevvie," she spoke softly by his ear. "Riky's wired to the gills. Have fun."

She patted Eirik on the arm. "Meeting in my office...Billy Babe, what day are we? Friday? Okay, Riky, make it supper Saturday, eight o'clock, at `John's'. Billy Babe will see to the reservations, won't you, sweetie? See you then, Sevvie."

And then the harpy and Billy Babe apparated off somewhere.

Severus didn't allow Eirik to do more than snicker "Billy Babe!" when he grabbed the man and apparated them to their hotel.

Where Severus got his first inkling that the night, as the harpy had indicated, was not over. They were met by a wary yet hesitant night manager who smiled nervously at them. "The usual has been sent to your room, Mr. Northlander."

Eirik, eyes over-bright, turned and sneered, "What makes you think I might be interested in the `usual'?"

The man took a hasty step backwards. "So sorry, Mr. Northlander. Of course, if there's anything you need or want changed, you have only to say."

Severus's eyebrow raised in his most displeased look. Which he directed not at the night manager, but at Eirik. "I'm certain that whatever the usual is, it will be fine."

Eirik was not pleased with his interference. He turned, his face peeved, but before he could say anything, Severus grabbed him and apparated them both to the suite which had been assigned to them.

There was a soft light on in the sitting room that shone on the very large bottle of champagne icing in a bucket by the table which was laden with small sandwiches, finger foods of all kinds, and pastries.

Eirik went for the champagne but Severus held him back.

"What?"

Severus frowned at the tone. Right now Eirik reminded him of Draco Malfoy when denied something he had considered his due.

"I don't know about you, but I'm tired."

Eirik pulled away. "Then go to bed. I want to celebrate," he sneered, pulling the bottle of champagne out of its bucket, splashing water and ice all over the floor and himself.

From behind one of the large armchairs, Severus saw Orm peek out, as if ready to hide once more.

As Severus went to take the bottle Eirik was struggling to open, he nodded to the bathroom. "Hot bath," he said, and Orm, eye on Eirik, nodded, scurrying off to do Severus's bidding. "Give me that," he said to Eirik.

"Pour me a glass full," said his lover, dropping into the chair Orm had been hiding behind. "To make up," he scoffed, "for all that crap I had to drink tonight."

Severus ignored the belligerence. Right now Eirik was nothing more than a fractious child, over-tired and riding high on his nerves. Wired, as the harpy had indicated. This must be, Severus understood from everyone's behaviour, Eirik's usual response to the end of the evening as `barfing' had been to the beginning.

He stuck the bottle back into the bucket.

"Hey, babe! I want some of that. Just because you don't doesn't mean that I have to be as stodgey as you. Damn it, Sevvie, the night's not over and I ..."

Severus waved his wand and Eirik found himself in the bathroom, naked.

"Into the tub, Riky babe."

Eirik opened his mouth to protest and found himself sitting in the deep two person tub, water up to his shoulders.

"Orm, tea, please."

Orm, mouth wide open, eyes astonished, nodded quickly and went off to do Severus's bidding.

Acting like a denied brat, Eirik angrily slapped the water hard with his hand. It splashed over the rim, onto the floor and Severus's robe. "Damn it, Sevvie..."

"Eirik!"

Something in Severus's tone got through the child to the man. Eirik shut up and turned to glare up at the man shucking his wet robe.

"To begin with, if you ever call me Sevvie again, I will transfigure you into a newt."

No one, not even Dumbledore, had ever challenged Severus when he spoke in that tone. Eirik gulped.

Severus removed his clothing, carefully folding everything onto the top of a hamper. "Next, the last thing you need is more champagne. I am fully aware that you managed to imbibe more of it between glasses of fizz whenever you thought I wasn't watching. Accepting a glass of champagne from one of your many admirers still constitutes drinking. Its effect on an empty stomach is quite noticeable. Not to mention adding alcohol to nerves, excitement and an overabundance of admittedly deserved compliments and flattery."

He stepped into the tub behind Eirik and sat, pulling the irritated child into his arms. Eirik resisted at first, lip curled, and then suddenly all resistence disappeared and he sagged back into Severus's arms.

Severus could feel the small tremors caused by nerves running under Eirik's cold skin. He settled himself with his arms around this child-man as Eirik's head tucked itself in the curve of his shoulder.

With a soft word from Severus, the light in the bathroom dimmed. Eirik's teeth chattered slightly in response to the heat and the quiet.

Orm cautiously placed a mug of sweetened hot tea on the ledge that rimmed the tub and smiled back when Severus mouthed `Thank you.'

Severus picked up the mug, and held it to Eirik's mouth. "This will warm you up."

There was a reluctant sigh, a small rippling of water as Eirik moved enough to accept the mug and take it to his mouth.

"Toast?" Orm whispered and Severus smiled. With a sigh of relief, Orm disappeared.

The mug was replaced on the ledge with a sound that was part pleasure, part exasperation.

Severus held out a point of the toast that had appeared next to the now refilled mug.

"Hands're wet," whined Eirik.

"Just open."

Eirik yawned loudly when the last piece was gone. He turned so that he could rest his head on Severus's shoulder, his arms around Severus's hips.

Severus said nothing, just lightly stroked the warming body in his arms, from shoulder, down back to the hips resting against his.

He spelled the water hot one more time before he felt Eirik was truly warmed and relaxed.

Severus closed his eyes and concentrated. He pictured the bedroom, then the bureau which held his things. Mentally, he opened the drawer which contained a small leather case. The case hovered in the air and finally settled on the dresser top. It unsnapped itself and opened, revealing four small stoppered vials in a special holder that held them secure. One of the vials rose up to sit next to the case. On its label appeared `Two drops in a small glass of water.'

Orm tiptoed into the bathroom, glass in hand. He showed it to Severus and held up two fingers, pointing to the glass. Severus smiled. He took the glass from the house elf and held it to Eirik's mouth. "Drink this."

"What is it?" There was still a hint of fractiousness to the voice as though the petulant child was putting up a last attempt to be quarrelsome.

"You'll like it," soothed Severus. "Promise."

Eirik swallowed the contents. "Doesn't taste anything," he groused.

Severus only moved, helping Eirik stand up and then out of the tub. Orm was there with thick towels and a long heavy toweling bathrobe which Severus got Eirik into with little difficulty: the man was almost asleep on his feet. Then a short trip to the bed which Orm had already turned down.

Severus tucked his lover into bed and stood over him, shaking his head.

And smiling.


	5. Five by Josan

Part Five

"Severus?"

Severus looked up from the morning issue of "American Wizard", the local newspaper that had accompanied breakfast.

Eirik looked ruffled, with his hair escaping yesterday's braid, his eyes still heavy with sleep, and his face wrinkled from the bedding. The bathrobe he was wearing was hanging open, rumpled from having slept in it.

Severus smiled and put paper and coffee down.

Just in time.

Eirik was suddenly kneeing between his legs, his head on his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around him.

"Severus! You're still here."

Severus found himself ruefully shaking his head as he stroked the head buried against him. Like Eirik, he too was wearing one of the terrycloth bathrobes that had been hanging in the bathroom.

"Where else would I be? I've been waiting for you to wake up." He leaned over and rested his mouth on Eirik's head.

Eirik's grip tightened. He made a sound that resembled a choked off sob. "Long gone. After...after last night."

Severus responded to that with a scoff and another kiss. Eirik looked up and the intensity in his expression made Severus very aware that Eirik hadn't been joking.

"You weren't that bad. Just overtired."

Eirik rubbed his face against Severus, pushing the lapels of his robe apart. He nestled his face against the softly pelted skin he had uncovered.

"Severus." Said so softly that Severus only caught a hint of his name.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

Severus rested his cheek on Eirik's head, liking the warm breath tickling his skin. "Are you always like...so..."

"So `Riky'?" Eirik sighed. "Yes. It's the only way I can get through those evenings."

Severus stroked the white head. "They're that difficult for you?"

There was a long moment of silence, as if Eirik were deciding just how to answer that. "I keep waiting for one of them to look around and laugh and yell to everyone that this is farce. Or to take out a knife and begin cutting away at..." He turned his face into the warm skin.

"At the part of yourself that you've exposed."

"Yes." Whispered.

Severus nodded. "I think I understand."

Eirik pulled his head away, looking up at Severus. "Do you?"

Severus nodded. "It's like walking into a circle of Death Eaters and seeing your son fight for his life. You know that if you can't get him out, he'll die. And that maybe the price for his being able to escape will be your own life."

Eirik nodded. "Compared to that, I know this sounds trivial..."

"Eirik! The one thing I noticed in all of your work is the amount of yourself that you put into them. You're exposing yourself for possible... `disembowelment', what Voldemort would probably have done to me if Dumbledore and the others hadn't arrive in the nick of time. The pain would be no less, the destruction no less permanent."

Eirik swallowed. He gave a small nod. "Yes, you do understand. Thank you."

He slowly unwrapped the robe away from Severus's body. With a hint of his old self, Eirik brought his hands up along Severus's thighs, lightly skimming his stomach with small circular motions that gradually moved up to his pecs. It crossed Severus's mind that Eirik was reassuring himself that he truly was still here. Then, with a look that promised many things, Eirik dropped his mouth onto the cock that was already reacting to the feel of his hands.

Severus gasped, his fingers digging into Eirik's head, his breath roughening in response to what the mouth and tongue were doing to him. He closed his eyes and accepted the return of his lover.

Eirik concentrated on every nuance of sound coming from Severus. He had awakened, alone in their bed and, though there had been signs of someone having slept next to him, he had immediately thought that his other self, his `Riky', had been too much for Severus to put up with.

But not only was his lover still here, he seemed to understand why Riky existed, why Eirik needed him to hide behind.

He was relieved and wanted to show his thanks, his appreciation for Severus's remaining in the face of what so many of his past lovers hadn't been able to tolerate.

He knew the management of the hotel would probably be wondering what had happened: he hadn't trashed anything, hadn't send food back with screams of it not being what he'd wanted. He hadn't fought with his partner, hadn't kicked anyone out for not being able to understand the state he was in or to give him what he needed. Some had enjoyed his after-exhibition shenanigans, joining him and even encouraging him on to new heights of frantic behaviour, and then couldn't understand his self-loathing after he'd put `Riky' back into the compartment he lived in until his next showing.

But Severus had not only stayed, he'd handled Riky, calming him, helping him deal with the nerves, helping him find sleep. And he understood, truly understood, what Eirik went through when he gave his work up for public scrutiny.

The fingers buried in his hair hurt, but he was so happy to have them there, he barely noticed their presence. Hold on to me, Severus, he chanted to the rhythm of his mouth, hold on. Don't let go. Please.

Severus came with a grunt and a jerk of his hips that shoved his cock further down Eirik's throat. His hands loosened but didn't release as Eirik slurped the last of his cum, cleaning him off.

While Severus recovered, Eirik buried his nose in Severus's groin and inhaled deeply. The scent of his lover filled him.

Severus tensed. Eirik looked up. "What?"

Severus raised his hand as if to brush away the question but then he allowed it to settle onto Eirik's head, fingers playing with some of the loosened hair. He shrugged. "Every time you smell me like that I wonder if this is when you laugh and yell out that this is a farce."

Eirik was shocked. "You're serious? Severus!"

Severus had his inscrutable look on again. "A relationship based on a smell, how rational is that?"

Eirik slipped his arms between the robe and Severus, and held on tight. "The smell only tells me that you're `The One'. That's all it does. The rest of it is up to us. I came after you not just because of the smell. If that had been true, I'd have locked us both in your bedroom and fucked you until I was sated. But I want more than that. That's why I came courting. I wanted to know you better."

Severus's fingertips sketched Eirik's eyebrows, his nose, the line of his jaw. "And what did you need to know that you hadn't already learnt from Finnbogi's files?"

Eirik understood the seriousness of the moment. "That, of all the people I have had in my life, you seem to understand me, all the mes, best. That you'll allow me my painting because," his face softened, "I allow you your potions. That... Dear Merlin! That you're as insecure about this relationship as I am."

He rested his chin on Severus's chest. "I love you, Severus Snape."

"A former Death Eater." Though the eyes were almost afraid, the voice was rough with challenge.

Eirik shook his head. "You want me to tell you what I learnt in Finnbogi's files? I learnt that you're a man who's been to the edge, who looked down into the abyss, and who found the courage in himself to pull back and to step away. That Death Eater stuff, it's before my time, Severus. All it means to me is that it's made you the man that you are. The man I love. The man I need."

Severus looked uncomfortable. Eirik placed a hand on Severus's mouth. "No, I'm not expecting you to say the words back to me now. I know better than that, Severus. I know you need time. But as you waited for me this morning, I'll wait for you."

He could feel Severus's discomfort. He leaned over and kissed Severus's warm skin. "I would however like something cleared up from last night."

Severus's voice was rougher than it had been. "If I can."

Eirik gave Severus a last hug. There' d been enough emotion for them both this morning. He sat back on his heels. "Would you really change me into a newt if I called you Sevvie?"

Severus closed his eyes. A small smile softened his mouth. "Yes."

Eirik sniffed. "Ha!"

Severus looked at him. "Believe me, Eirik, I have a tolerance for a great many things but being called...that name is not one of them."

Eirik took up the ends of Severus's belt and made a loose knot. He fitted the robe back about Severus and then he gave the belt a second knot. "Does this mean that you'll..." he looked up, eyes alive with teasing, "you'll newtify Luc the next time she calls you that?"

Severus closed his hands over Eirik's. "I have a suspicion that harpies may be the exception."

"Harpies? What...? Severus, what makes you think that Luc is a harpy?"

Severus looked startled. "She isn't?"

Eirik shook his head, trying to hold back his laughter.

"But...the hair, the clothing, the nails..."

Eirik grinned. "Fashion. The Art scene here in New York is a little livelier than it is back home."

"You mean she looks like that on purpose!"

Eirik reached up, "No wonder I love you!" And pulled Severus's head down for a thorough kiss.

Eirik dressed in Muggle clothes. Severus watched him via the mirror as he pulled on dark brown trousers, a heavy cream-coloured sweater with a high collar. It suited him, he thought, as much as his teal robe or his paintsplattered working clothes. Another facet of this man who claimed to love him.

Severus brushed back his hair and looked at himself in the same mirror. Though he and Eirik were the same age, he looked older. He certainly wasn't nearly as handsome. His personality was far more introspective than Eirik's. He straightened the high suit coat collar at this throat and wondered if there was any truth to the attractions between opposite personalities.

"No, don't put on the robe. You can get away with the suit and the cloak, but the robe won't pass."

Severus rehung his robe with reluctance: he felt almost naked without it. He adjusted his winter cloak while Eirik zippered up a dark brown soft leather jacket.

They were outside, looking at the shimmer that was the curtain separating this world from the other, when Eirik realized that Severus was truly not looking forward to this excursion into the world of Muggles.

"Severus? What's wrong?"

Severus stood on the esplanade, staring at the demarcation line.

"Some of them died because of me. Not quickly. And I knew that. From the beginning."

Eirik slipped his hands into his jacket pockets. He nodded, eyes focused on the curtain. "Several centuries ago, they used to take people they thought were werewolves and nail them, spread-eagle, to boards. If they were indeed werewolves, during the Change, the nails tore their paws to shreds. Then the Muggles would set their dogs after them. To hunt them down. To tear them to pieces."

Severus couldn't hide his horror. In his imagination he could see Alexander, torn and bleeding, being hunted down.

"They've done and still do worse to those they identify as their enemies. As we do. Brutality is part of us, humans and wizards. The trick is to face it and overcome it."

Eirik pulled on a pair of sunglasses, even though the day wasn't particularly bright.

"My eyes bother them," he said by way of explanation.

Severus shook his head. "Their loss."

And Eirik grinned. "You know," he nudged Severus with his hip, "that's the first time you've made a personal remark about me, outside of bed."

Severus thought it prudent not to respond to that.

Walking through the streets of downtown Manhattan, Severus was amazed that no one seemed to notice that he wasn't dressed as they were. Eirik laughed when he said that aloud. "Take a good look around, Severus. This is New York. Nothing much is out of place around here."

Severus followed Eirik into a building, a store that specialized in men's clothing.

"Mr. Northlander! How delightful to see you again!"

And the next thing he knew, Severus was in a small room walled on three sides with mirrors, with a double doored closet-like structure on the fourth. Eirik tossed his jacket onto one of the chairs that was placed by a small table then took Severus's cloak from him and placed it on top of the jacket. A young man entered, carrying a silver tea service, a plate of biscuits and two delicate sets of cup and saucer.

The man who had greeted Eirik was looking at Severus with a determined glint in his eyes. "Yes," he kept on saying, as he walked around him. He stopped in front of Eirik. "Yes. This will be a definite pleasure, Mr. Northlander."

Eirik made himself comfortable in one of the free chairs and poured himself a cup of tea. Severus could see the slightly vexed look on his face reflected back at him from the walls. Eirik smiled at him. "Just relax. This'll be fun."

"My concept of fun or yours?"

Eirik grinned as the stylist entered followed by several more of the young men.

For the next two hours, Severus was made to dress and undress. He stood silently as Eirik and the man he soon thought of as the Tormentor passed comments on the way he looked in certain clothes, how his shoulders fitted certain cuts and not others. Ditto, more embarrassingly, his arse. His choice of underwear was silently disparaged and replaced with silken boxer knits that caused Eirik to leer at him in a most promising way.

And though they allowed him to keep to his safe and comfortable black, the Tormentor insisted that there were limits and forced him into different tones of greys, from the darkest, nearly black, to a pale, almost white.

During a pause when he and Eirik were alone while the Tormentor went off to locate some shoes and boots, Severus asked, "Why?"

Eirik grinned at him. "Because my closet is filled?" He laughed. "No, seriously, my work occasionally crosses over into this world. So does Father's." At Severus's raised eyebrow, he explained, "There are several Muggle political leaders and organizations who are aware of us. As President, Father maintains friendly ties and likes some of the more presentable members of the family to appear with him once in a while at certain social events. I often attend with Luc - we represent the Arts - so he indicated that I should see to it that you be appropriately dressed for the next one. Thus the suits and formal wear.

"And there are things that I want to show you in this world. And I think you'll be far more comfortable if you don't stick out. The rest of the world isn't New York."

Severus shook his head. "I can't pay for this, Eirik. I didn't change any money."

Eirik grinned. "Call it a gift."

Severus shook his head again. "Even I know that if there are no price tags, the chances are that the tally for your selections will be outrageous."

Eirik grinned. "Do you have any idea of how much I made last night? Even accounting for your harpy's portion? You needn't worry, Severus. Consider them to be your new working clothes. Because, believe me, Father will have you working those events as hard as he will be. He's still got six years left to his tenure as President and he'll expect us to come when he calls."

Severus wondered if he were the only one who remembered he was under Pronouncement of Banishment. He sighed. Oddvar Brekke seemed to expect a lot from his people. So much for there not being any cost for his support!

He frowned at his reflection. He was wearing an elegantly-cut suit with trousers that didn't bag at the ankle, a sweater similar to Eirik's except that his was a dark charcoal. With a grimace, he pushed the hair off his face and glared critically at himself.

Eirik appeared behind him. "You're beautiful," his murmur tickling Severus's ear.

Severus rolled his eyes. "You are obviously still suffering from the aftereffects of last night."

Eirik dropped his chin onto Severus's shoulder. With a grin, he turned his head and sucked on the lobe of Severus's ear. Severus shivered.

"Severus," rasped this voice in his ear, "you truly have no idea of just how sexy you are. It's going to be a real pleasure to show you."

This time when they walked down the street, they did get the occasional glance. Eirik was eye catching enough in himself. Severus could understand why anyone would want to take a second glance at him. But he was surprised when a pair of elegantly dressed women smiled at him as they strode by. He knew it had to be him, Eirik was buying a paper at a near-by kiosk.

He glanced at his reflection in a store window. He was dressed as Eirik was, but in his safe and comforting black. Black trousers, black turtleneck sweater, black leather jacket. The only hint of colour was the grey scarf around his neck. His regular clothes along with his new wardrobe were to be picked up by an employee of their hotel later that day.

Eirik had seen the short exchange and grinned at his lover. "Flirting?"

Severus looked insulted. "I do not flirt!"

Eirik nudged him. "You'll learn."

The building was huge, with tall, thick columns and a long series of stairs leading up to the front doors. There were massive colourful banners hanging down the front of the building. One bore only the word Goya, as though that was enough. Another showed a set of young girls in short dresses whose skirts flared off as though stiff. The word Degas appeared on that one.

Eirik flashed Severus a smile as he paid the entry fee.

The lobby was filled with chattering people. Of all kinds. They were elegantly dressed, causally dressed, poorly dressed. There were children in groups being led by flustered looking adults, parents with children, couples of all pairings and ages.

As they proceeded up the stairs to the inner building, Eirik smiled. "This is one of my favourite Muggle places."

Severus wondered why until they entered the first of many large open rooms whose walls were hung with Muggle art.

As they made their way in deeper, the quieter the rooms grew. Severus noted people standing almost reverently in front of pieces which, unlike Eirik's work, didn't move. Here and there a Muggle was sitting on a chair, eyes focused on a painting. People walking by made certain not to block their view. In front of one, out of the direct path of travel, a young woman had set up an easel and was copying a part of some work which fascinated her.

Eirik said nothing, just stopped now and then in front of a piece he wanted Severus to see. They were in front of Vermeer's `Young Woman with a Water Pitcher' when Severus said to him, in a soft voice, "They have magic, too, haven't they? Not our magic, but magic still."

He could feel Eirik relax. "I love you."

Severus kept his eyes on the young woman with the overlarge wimple and smiled.

Now that he was certain Severus understood, Eirik showed him his personal favourites: the Rembrandt self-portrait, the Breughels. He was more cautious when they moved into the Modern section, where he let Severus lead. It was obvious that there were some he didn't find magical, but he stopped in front of Modigliani's `Reclining Nude' longer than he had in front of any of the others and finally nodded. Eirik bit his lip with delight: it was also one of his favourites. Not to mention the Monets, which Severus also liked.

They were standing in front of `Water Lilies' when Severus' stomach growled loudly, attracting some smiles and glares from their fellow art lovers. Eirik checked his watch: they'd been here for over two hours. Long past time for lunch, closer to supper. "Come on, time to feed the physical man."

They were outside when Severus stopped. Eirik watched him as he looked about in the fading light. "It truly is another world. With as much right to exist as ours." He looked at Eirik. "Voldemort and others who believe as he did are wrong."

Eirik nodded. "They have their strong points and their weaknesses. They're as protective of themselves as we are of ourselves. Doesn't mean we can't co-exist."

Severus smiled. "Is that Oddvar Brekke I hear?"

They started down the stairs. Eirik shrugged. "Can't be around the old man without picking up some of his philosophy. Besides, we in the North may see things differently. We're not so pressed against them, like you are in the more southern regions. We werewolves ended up in places where there was ample room to roam, to settle in our villages without being much noticed. It's not by chance that there are so many werewolf clans in the colder regions of the world. I mean, not exactly hospitable territory for Muggles. We had an easier time with adaptation. And since we were less visible, we were less prone to persecution not just by Muggles but by our own kind for being different. It gave us time to become a true part of the wizarding world in those areas."

The cab ride was a nightmare for Severus. Eirik sat next to him in the back seat, holding his hand, as the driver wove in and out and around traffic, muttering invectives. "Close your eyes," he recommended.

"No, thank you." He gasped as the cab fit into a space it shouldn't have. Unlike riding on the Knight Bus, nothing here made way for their vehicle. "If I'm going to die, I don't want to be taken by surprise."

It seemed they might be too causally dressed for the restaurant Eirik had chosen, one specializing in Szechuan and Cantonese food that he swore Severus would enjoy. They were both given the once over and Severus was certain that the short Asian man of indeterminate age had priced their apparel to the knut before showing them to a booth.

Eating with chopsticks was another adventure, but this one had Eirik laughing and Severus determined to show the two thin sticks just who was in control.

"What other new and exciting experience do you have in mind for me now?"

They were walking along the street, jackets zippered up to their necks and gloved hands in their pockets. With the darkness, the temperature had dropped. Nothing like it would be back at Hillswick, but Severus found it much damper.

"You'll see."

It was a skating rink.

With a grin, Eirik led Severus up to the booth where he rented them each a pair of skates.

"You have got to be out of your mind."

Eirik pushed Severus down on one of the benches and handed him a pair. He sat next to him and began exchanging boots for skates. "Come on. It'll limber you up for the rest of the evening."

Severus gave Eirik one of his frostier looks. "The rest of the evening. I'm going to need limbering up for the rest of the evening?"

He must have honed that look on Slytherin House, thought Eirik. Bet he never had to ask for silence twice. But Eirik only grinned at Severus in response.

With a resigned sigh, Severus laced up the skates.

"I have never done this, you know," he announced casually as he tied the second lace.

Eirik was stunned. "Truly? Come on, Severus, surely..."

Severus only shook his head. He got to his feet gingerly: Eirik quickly took him by the hands. "Think of this as another pair of chopsticks."

Severus glared. "I doubt that I could have broken my neck in that situation."

"Trust me. I won't let you fall."

Severus looked into his eyes. Eirik had taken off his sunglasses as soon as they had come out of the restaurant: Muggles rarely noticed his eyes after dark.

"I trust you."

Eirik heard more than the words. Still maintaining eye contact, he brought Severus's hand to his mouth. "Thank you."

Still, there were a few close calls before Severus got the hang of moving around on thin edges. And there was laughter.

Eirik held the moment in his heart when Severus, attempting to skate on his own, wobbled as though his legs were boneless, then managed to find his balance and skate triumphantly into Eirik's arms. His face was lit with success and pleasure and lightness of spirt. Eirik thought that he had never seen Severus look so beautiful.

"I can't believe you'd never done that before," he laughed in the cab on their way to yet another new experience for Severus. "Must be something specific to the North."

Severus shook his head. "Our temperatures are rarely that cold, Eirik. The lake at Hogwarts might ice over, but never deeply enough to hold anyone's weight."

The cab left them at 13th and Broadway. Severus looked around. The neighbourhood was not as upper-scale as where they'd spent the day.

Eirik grinned. "All limbered up?"

Severus grimaced. "I'll feel this tomorrow."

"I'll take care of that tomorrow. Right now, time to put all that limbering up to good stead."

It was a nightclub, one that took Severus only a few moments to realize was filled with males.

"I suppose that dancing isn't something that you've much experience with."

Severus yelled over the noise. "Really? And what clued you in?"

Eirik grinned as he took Severus by the hand and led him to a small booth huddled against the wall. "The look of astonishment on your face." He tossed his jacket into the booth and took Severus's off him before he could complain. To a passing waiter he held up two fingers and yelled "Heineken" into his ear.

He grabbed Severus's hand and pulled him along to where males in all states of dress - and undress - were gyrating to a deafening beat.

As Eirik moved in response to that beat, Severus stood watching. Apart from supervising dances at Hogwarts, he had no real experience with this activity. He hadn't been popular enough to have a partner, even a Slytherin female one, at the dances held when he had been a student. He usually spent those in his room reading or, if he had been able to sneak past the newly hired and therefore overly-conscientious Filch and Mrs. Norris, in the Potions classroom, working on a potion of his own invention.

Eirik cocked his head and kept on doing things with his body that explained why he could move the way he did in bed. In fact, watching him, Severus could feel his body reacting in a manner that could be socially embarrassing.

The loud beat slid into another song and Eirik leaned over, once more yelling to be heard, "Just think of an ice cube dropped down your back and move that way."

Severus's eyebrow rose high. He wasn't certain this was something he was going to be able to do with any success. Chopsticks and skating were... Well, maybe not the skating. There were some people who looked as had a few of the skaters before they'd hit the ice.

Reluctantly, not wanting to disappoint Eirik who was beginning to look concerned, Severus tried. He tried to convince his feet that they could move in response to the rhythm, his arms not to get in the way. He had some success, though never with the exuberance or dexterity Eirik displayed. And when he finally lost enough self-awareness to concentrate only on the beat, he found that his body enjoyed the movement.

"More like mating," he said when they'd returned to the table to down the cold beer waiting for them.

"Exactly like mating. That's what most of the men are here for: to find a mate for the night at least."

Severus was disapproving. "Is that what we're here for?"

Eirik shook his head. "No way. We're here so I can show you off." And laughed at Severus's incredulous expression.

Still, Severus was taken by surprise when several men tried to cut in, and move him away from his partner so that they could dance with Severus, not Eirik. More than dance, actually. Severus couldn't believe the propositions he got, and the manner they were offered in the loudness that passed for music. And though he was definitely not at all tempted by any offer, it was very satisfying to watch how Eirik dealt with those men. Some shrugged and went off when he made it clear that he was with Severus. Others needed more persuasion, which Eirik was more than happy to provide.

The strange thing was that Severus suddenly found himself as possessive of Eirik's attention as it seemed Eirik was of his.

At first, when a dancer had tried to get Eirik's attention, Severus had not interfered, letting Eirik deal with the situation. But as the night grew later and the heat- both temperature and sexual - in the club rose, he moved quickly to dissuade any challenger. His Hogwarts glare was called into play more than he'd had to use it since leaving the school. And he was delighted to see that though it didn't have much effect on Eirik, it hadn't lost any of its power on others.

Eirik grinned as he watched Severus deal with another dancer who was determined to come between them. Nice to know that he wasn't the only one to feel a little possessive tonight. Damn, but the man looked like sex on two legs. He was more at ease with the music, his body looser. His hair was damp from exertion and his feelings more open. He'd gotten less stiff as the evening progressed, and had picked up enough moves from watching those around them that he seemed to be actually enjoying himself.

The music slipped into a softer beat and Eirik pulled Severus into his arms. Arms wrapped around each other, they barely moved to the music, claiming their little space. Bloody hell, there was that smell again. He rubbed his hardening cock against Severus, who pulled away just enough to raise that eyebrow again and then leer. Eirik nearly gasped: Severus was leering at him! Then he pulled Eirik in close and rubbed his own erection against Eirik's.

Severus opened his mouth and, angling his head just right, took Eirik's which opened to greet him. Ah, that taste. That went directly to his cock. Severus moaned and tried to take more of Eirik's flavour into his own mouth.

They broke apart and, without saying a word, together made for the booth and their jackets. Outside, Eirik headed for a dark nook and allowed Severus to reclaim his mouth. They broke to breathe and rub against each other like two dogs in heat. Which they were. Eirik swallowed and had to clear his throat in order to disapparate them back to their hotel and room. Severus' mouth was far too busy working on his throat, on the soft spot under his ear.

They took off only enough clothing to deal with their immediate hunger.

By now, Severus knew to find the jar of unguent that he fabricated for them under Eirik's pillow. He drew it out with one hand as his other was burrowing under Eirik's sweat-soaked sweater, hunting down a nipple. He tormented the sensitive nub of flesh until Eirik was writhing under him.

He pulled his hand down to Eirik's trousers, opened them and freed his cock. Eirik bucked, rubbing up against the rough weave of Severus's sweater. He grabbed hold of his shoulders and arched himself into Severus again.

Severus swallowed the other's breathy gasps as he managed to uncap the jar with one hand and dip two fingers deep into it. Then, he wriggled his hand between them and got his trousers open. With a hard push, he turned Eirik over onto his stomach, yanked down his trousers enough for him to find his arsehole with his greased fingers.

Eirik moaned loudly and raised his arse in invitation.

A quick swipe of greased fingers on his own cock and then, hand guiding him to the place he wanted to fill, Severus pushed his cock in hard.

Eirik shouted and, though Severus heard him, he knew enough now about his lover to know that his rough claiming was welcomed.

There was no finesse to their orgasms. Severus rammed in and out until he came while Eirik slipped a hand between himself and the covers until he found his cock and jerked himself off to the rhythm that Severus set.

They lay panting, an entanglement of arms and legs. Eirik turned his head so that he could breathe more easily. Severus rested his head next to Eirik's, reaching over with his mouth to suck on the nearby earlobe. Eirik moaned softly. Severus wrapped his free arm around Eirik's waist. Eirik tightened his arse muscles around the cock that was still in him.

"Have I mentioned that I like being done this way?"

Severus released the earlobe. "Not too rough?"

Eirik turned his head to face Severus. "I'll let you know if it's ever too rough. Wolf's honour."

They kissed.

"I need a shower," Severus complained as he slowly pulled out of Eirik.

"Sounds good." Eirik grinned then wriggled his eyebrows. "Bet I can get you to come first."

Severus raised only one eyebrow. His tone was dry, almost non-caring. "Really?"

Eirik's grin grew into a smirk. "Yes," he purred as he followed Severus into the bathroom.

He lost.

They spent the next day at some other museums and art galleries that Eirik wanted Severus to see. Supper was with Luc who showed up without Billy Babe and with a totally different look. She was dressed in a dark grey business suit and robe, a black leather briefcase in hand, auburn hair in a sedate chignon.

Severus gasped at the number of galleons she had deposited into Eirik's account at the New York branch of Gringotts. Between dishes of antipasto, pasta and dessert, arrangements were discussed for Eirik's next showing, in two years' time.

"I think that instead of borrowing a few portraits, the ones you do of Sevvie and his kid - Alex, isn't it?" she smiled at Severus, "would make a nice presentation of your portrait work."

Eirik sat back in his chair. "What makes you think that I'm going to be painting them?"

The harpy of the exhibition peered out of Luc's eyes. "Well, the way the two of you have been playing footsie all evening is one clue. Another is the fact that you actually asked Sevvie here for his opinion on something. It was only the wine, but I've never before heard you express any consideration for the opinion of one of your...ah... let's call them exes, shall we?"

Definitely a harpy, thought Severus, no matter what Eirik said.

"And the fact that he allowed you to drag him through... How many museums and art galleries, was it, Sevvie? Six? Seven? Well, I expect not only portraits of Sevvie and Alex, but the next generation as well. Unless Alex is also gay? Why haven't you asked him? Oh, well, if he's as sweet and sexy as Sevvie here, well," she nearly wriggled with the tease, "kids and puppies sell really well, Riky."

She kissed and hugged Eirik when she left them at the entrance of the small restaurant. Then she hugged and kissed `Sevvie'.

"See you when I see you. Probably early summer. I want to find you've got at least five canvases ready for me to look at by then, Riky."

Eirik waited until she'd apparanted off to wherever she was going to glare at Severus. "I thought once you knew she wasn't a harpy that you weren't going to let her get away with calling you..." Severus's eyebrow threatened. "...that name."

Severus smiled innocently. "She thinks I'm sweet and sexy. I can forgive her that."

"I think you're sweet and sexy and you won't let me call you...that."

"No, I won't. But then again, I don't call you Riky. I think that's a fair exchange."

Eirik shook his head as they walked through the demarcation curtain. "And to think I was really looking forward to seeing the expression on her face when you turned her into a newt. You owe me, Severus. Big time."

Severus only shrugged, wondering where they were headed for this evening. The part of town they were in was brilliant with marquee lights, noise and as many people as he'd seen at any corner in the daylight.

"Times Square. The best and the worst of New York."

"And we're heading for?"

It was a sex shop.

Eirik held back his smile as Severus's eyes opened wide at the variety of toys. He sounded shocked as he muttered, "Toys? These are toys?"

"For adults, Severus. And we are that."

Eirik could easily read Severus as they walked around the shop. Some of the toys were definite turn-offs. He gently steered Severus away from the whips and other bondage and S&M gear. He himself didn't mind skirting the edge, but it wasn't something that was necessary to him.

Now cock rings and nipple clamps, butt plugs and vibrators were another matter.

Severus was stunned at the variety of lube. "They're even flavoured," he muttered under his breath.

Eirik shook his head. "Not on our shopping list. I like the one you make for us. The only flavour I want is you."

Severus was very quiet as they walked along the displays. Eirik's attention wandered to the items he was choosing, imagining how Severus would respond some of the play he intended introducing into their love-making.

"Eirik."

Something in Severus's voice made him shift all his attention from cock rings onto the man standing at his side. He was wearing one of those faces Eirik so disliked: the one devoid of all expression, all emotion from his eyes.

Eirik wondered if this trip to the shop had been too much for Severus.

"Do you want to leave?"

Severus shook his head. He used it to gesture towards the whips. "If that's the kind of thing that you like...I'll let you."

Eirik didn't immediately understand. He had to look at the section for Severus's offer to penetrate. Odin! he thought.

Worried at the offer and understanding the reason for the blandness of Severus's voice when he made it, Eirik put the packages down and stepped up close enough so that they could have a very private, very quiet conversation.

"No. No, Severus, it's not. I'll admit that I like it rough now and then, but I'm not into pain and I'm not into blood."

"It would be all right."

It passed through Eirik's mind that if he had ever truly wondered if Severus cared for him, maybe even loved him, this was the time when all doubt was cast aside. That the man would offer to submit to pain in order to keep him happy...

"No, it wouldn't. I like it when you do me rough, Severus, because it means that you're so hot and hungry for me that you've forgotten your own guidelines about sex. About how nothing is to hurt." He kept on quickly, not allowing Severus to interrupt. "Yes, sometimes it does hurt but I like that kind of hurt. It doesn't last long, and it isn't pain. I told you once that I'm not into pain and I meant it. Not receiving it. Definitely not giving it."

Eirik placed his hand on Severus's clenched fist. "Love, I do thank you for the offer but the games I like are the ones we're already playing. The ones you seem to like?"

He waited while some colour returned to Severus's face and he nodded.

Eirik felt the relief down to his toes. "We can expand on those for years to come."

And he leaned over and rubbed his cheek against Severus's still tense one.

"Do you want to leave?" he whispered.

Severus turned his face into Eirik's hair and leaned into it. "No." He cleared his throat and stepped back from the intimate closeness. "No, I think that I want to take a look at those butt plugs. You only have the one and, if what you tell me is true, we're each going to need our own to get through those social invitations of your father."

When they arrived home the next day, Eirik watched as Severus made certain he was the one who unpacked the case which contained a rather large bag filled with a variety of toys. He even spelled the drawer he stored them in so that only he or Eirik could open it.

Freya shook her head and wondered why it was that the male of the species had been created without an awareness gene.

When she'd returned, she'd found the two men had settled into the first phase of their relationship. They were still getting to know each other and, all things considered, for two rather strong personalities, were getting along quite well.

Eirik had converted the parlour into his studio and was working on a portrait commission of some colleague of his mother's. The man was headmaster of the school at which she taught, and Eirik was doing this as a favour to her. Freya had already decided that the portrait would be adequate, but would not have the Northlander touch as the man obviously did not interest Eirik. He was working from sketches and photographs.

Severus was working in his lab with Bera Hillswick, the Village Potion Maker. She was assisting him as he was making a large batch of a fairly complex healing potion that the Elders had hesitantly requested from him. Whenever he had the time, they'd added. The Elders were still more than a bit in awe of Severus and his abilities. That someone of his skills had been banished to their part of the world, that he would willingly share his expertise with them, was, in their eyes, an unexpected outcome of their supporting the father of one of their Clan.

Orm had settled in rather well. Ketil and he were distant cousins and Ketil didn't mind sharing his Family with family. Freya had overheard a conversation in which the two house elves were trying to better each other's examples of the foibles of their masters when working.

She'd even heard from both Finnbogi and Oddvar about how Eirik had been so much better behaved since Severus had come into his life. She knew that Oddvar had purchased `Raven Among Parrots', and that it was now hanging in his office at IFOW Headquarters. Finnbogi had merely indicated, in a passing conversation, that there had been no complaint from the New York hotel this exhibition, not a one.

And looking at the two men, she could see that each had found his partner. Eirik was calmer, less morose when a painting didn't go the way he expected it to. He allowed Severus not only to look at a piece before it was finished, but asked for his opinion and comments. This from a man who had once nearly killed a lover who had dared sneak a peek and then commented on it to Luc before it was done!

Severus, well, Severus was not the same man who had come up for Inga's funeral. He was no less intense about his work, no less diligent about his correspondence with Alexander, but he actually laughed now and then. And he had begun to tease back. In that dry, sarcastic voice of his, but definitely teasing.

And Freya was quite thankful that Severus's bedchamber was spelled for silence. Not that she minded where the two men had sex, or fondled each other - she'd overheard a rather playful encounter in the parlour one afternoon, and only that once - but Alexander would be home in a month's time and she didn't think that a now fourteen year old boy should be an audience for his father's sexual life.

Affection was something else. Eirik was affectionate and that should not be confined to behind doors. Alexander was, too. It would do Severus good to allow that part of himself expression as well. He was learning, she was happy to note.

And it was obvious that the two men were happy.

Had been.

Until that letter had arrived and Severus had reverted to his silent, stoic self.

Eirik had noted the silence, the stoicism. But he hadn't made the connection with the letter and didn't understand why Severus was acting the way he was.

And instead of asking Severus what was the reason...

Well, no, she had to be fair: he had. And Severus had answered that nothing was wrong. But the...the...man had accepted that and was still shrugging his shoulders at Severus's attitude!

Dear Odin! Was it only women who could connect the dots?

She looked up from her notes for the article she was writing for the `Periodical on Werewolf Midwifery' - though Anna had had to spend the last three weeks before labour in her bed, and though the actual delivery hadn't been easy, the twins had been born hale and hearty and their mother had lived - when Eirik dropped into the chair opposite her at the table. He shoved his hands into his pockets and slouched until he was resting on his tailbone.

"Not going well?"

He scoffed. "As well as can be expected. That man is such a..." He growled.

Freya pushed her notes to one side and reached out a hand to Eirik. He shrugged and placed one of his in hers. "I take it that's not just in reference your mother's headmaster."

Eirik scowled and shrugged again. "I don't understand. Everything seemed to be going so well."

Freya nudged, "Until?"

"Until last week. Now he's like he was when I first met him. Freya, I love him, but that man he used to be, that's not Severus. Not any more."

Freya sighed. Not only missing a gene, but thick as well. "Eirik." She placed her other hand on top of his. "What happened last week?"

"Huh?"

Freya made a moue of self-control. Ah, well, it wasn't as though the boy could help it. Even Oddvar, with his great diplomatic skills, never understood why his wives acted as they did.

"Eirik. Last week, Severus received a letter. Do you remember?"

Eirik wriggled. She knew from his expression that he didn't like her slightly exasperated tone, but frankly!

"Severus gets a lot of letters. From Alexander. From that professor in Lillehammer. Even from the Potter kid. You're going to have to be more specific."

Freya released Eirik's hands and reached for her wand. The drawer in the sideboard opened and a badly wrinkled letter rose out and made its way over to the table.

Eyes holding hers, Eirik reached for the letter. "I never saw this," he pointed out after a quick scan. "I don't read his letters unless he wants to share. He respects my privacy the same way."

She sat back. "A letter tossed into the garbage after it's mangled might well prove to be an exception to that very good rule."

"It's an invitation to a Potion Masters conference."

"Yes."

"So he doesn't want to go. That's why he threw it away." Eirik tossed the letter back onto the table.

Freya controlled the urge to hit him. "Doesn't he?"

Eirik picked the letter up again and reread it. He looked up at her. "Doesn't he?"

Mentally, she counted to five. "The letter indicates who has been invited."

Eirik glanced down. "Yes? So?"

"Eirik," she felt her exasperation reach its limit, "even you have to recognize some of those names. You've met some of them at your father's socials."

Eirik reread the listing. He went to say something but Freya's glare made him stop and consider. "They're bigwigs."

"Yes. Very important Potions Masters."

"And they've invited Severus."

"Yes." It was worse than pulling teeth!

"Freya, I do know that Severus is a superb potions maker. I've heard that often enough from Bera."

The slight condescension in his voice made her grit her teeth. "Eirik, Severus is a genius with potions. How else could he have invented the Wolfsbane?"

Eirik shrugged. "He doesn't think so. That he invented it. He told me that all he'd done was read up on the other attempts and toss out what hadn't worked and keep what had."

"And you believed him? Eirik. One day, take the time to look at what had been done prior to his work. See how much of what had already been done actually appears in the formula. Not just the ingredients but the spells. He invented a few of those as well."

Eirik squirmed a little, which she found very satisfying. "He passes it off as nothing."

"The potion represents years of work, Eirik." Then she nudged harder. "Why did it take him so long?"

Eirik sat up. He exhaled loudly, passing his hands through his hair. "All right. I admit to being dense. You're trying to tell me something and instead of wanting to hit me over the head with a hammer, why don't you just say it?"

Freya crossed her arms over her chest. "Because if you work it out for yourself, you'll understand him better."

Eirik closed his eyes and moaned. "Damn it, Gudrid was just like that. If I asked her for help with an assignment, she would spend hours pulling the information out of me word by word rather than just hand it to me."

He placed his hands flat on the table. "All right. It took him that long because...because he was at Hogwarts and teaching. Not in a lab."

"Yes. And why was he at Hogwarts, Eirik, and not in a lab of his own, which is where he should have been?"

"Because...he liked teaching."

"Oh, yes. He so liked teaching," Freya allowed herself to drip Snape-like sarcasm, "that his was the very sweetest and most patient of dispositions."

Eirik found a smile. "Not according to the reports Finnbogi collected."

"And why was that?"

Eirik offered a little tentatively, "Because he would have preferred being in a lab."

She nodded. It was slow going but they were getting there! "Imagine what it was like for him. Needing to be in a lab, working on his potions, but instead having to deal with students who had little respect for his subject, even less for him. Having only the summers to work on something that he needed to do as much as...you need to paint. Knowing there was a line of experiment he should be following but instead having to break away to teach, to correct, to examine. And more than that, to deal with the everyday problems of his House."

"Then why didn't he just quit?"

"Eirik, what was the understanding Severus had with the Ministry so that he wasn't sent to Azkaban?"

"That he work with Dumbledore to bring down Voldemort."

"And Dumbledore was where?"

"At Hogwarts. So that was where Severus had to be as well." He thought a moment, "But why in the classroom? Why not in a school sponsored lab? Lillehammer can't be the only school to have that kind of thing. For students who wish to specialize. You have to be a brain to get into those classes. And Severus might have enjoyed teaching them. He certainly doesn't mind teaching Bera, and she was top of her class in Potions."

"Eirik, do you remember your own Potions instructor?"

Eirik laughed. "Odin! What an idiot! He let us make love potions and things like that. Potions to turn a faithless lover into a frog. I seem to remember that someone used that one on him."

"And what is Alexander's main complaint about the staff at Hogwarts?"

Eirik sounded pensive. "That his Potions instructor is also an idiot."

"Eirik, Potions instructors in most schools are idiots. It's not a popular subject. It's one that's necessary, but it's a career with no real glory attached to it. Not like Aurors, or Foreign Ministries. The ones who are good at Potions end up in select positions. They don't end up in classrooms teaching first year students."

Eirik nodded. "But Severus did. As punishment?"

Ah, finally, Freya thought. "If you've read Finnbogi's reports, you know that Severus spent his holidays - all of them - at Hogwarts. Except for one when he spent a week up here."

"He was suicidal."

"Was he?" She hadn't known that. She sat back in her chair. There had been no mention of suicide in Finnbogi's reports. She hadn't been here that summer. If she had, would she have noticed how badly off Severus was? Inga had been aware that he was troubled by something, but suicide? To that point? "That might explain why Dumbledore allowed him..."

Eirik sat up, snarling, "They didn't stick him in Azkaban because Hogwarts was his prison. Albus Dumbledore was not his protector, he was his warden!"

YES! thought Freya, and hoped she had kept it out of her face. She leaned over the table, her hands now on Eirik's. Time to remind him of things that were in Finnbogi's reports but which he had probably forgotten since political intrigue usually went in one ear and out the other with Eirik.

"Other than his desire to become Minister for Magic, Albus Dumbledore cared for one thing, more than anything else. He cared for Hogwarts.

"He wanted to make it the best of all the schools for witchcraft and wizardry in our world. And he did. Even before he became Headmaster, he had a lot of influence on his predecessor. He saw to it that Hogwarts attracted some of the very best. Especially for the serious sciences. Minerva McGonagall was one of the best teachers of Transfiguration. Madam Sprout is second to none in her ability with Herbology. Even Professor Binn, ghost that he is, is still one of the finest minds in his knowledge of our history.

"Dumbledore offered them whatever they wanted in order to keep them. So they wouldn't be tempted away by better offers. They are some of the best paid professors in any school."

Eirik interrupted, scowling. "He didn't pay Severus what he was worth. Not by a long shot!"

Freya smiled. "No," she agreed. "According to Finnbogi, Severus is no spendthrift. He deposited most of his salary into Gringotts and used them as his brokers. Added to that is the money allowed him from a trust set up by his grandparents which means Severus is more than comfortable."

She continued, "What drew the Hogwarts staff more than the money is that they have total teaching freedom in their classes. They pick the curriculum, not the Ministry. So it wasn't that hard to keep them. Dumbledore had managed to assemble the best, except for the usual Potions classes."

Eirik was angry. "And then he had one of the very best Potions Masters at his disposal. Under his control."

"Eirik, even before news of the Wolfsbane leaked out, Severus has been invited to this conference for the last ten years and every year he hasn't attended."

He picked up the letter once again. "I don't understand. All right, he wasn't allowed to go while he was imprisoned in Hogwarts, but he's not there now. Finnbogi's fixed him up with all the documents he might need to travel. Why won't he go?"

Freya sighed softly. "Maybe it's because he's still not used to the freedom: he was there for so long. So far, whenever he's left Hillswick, it's been for a Brekke reason. Maybe he doesn't think a Snape reason will be reason enough."

She reached over and once more placed her hand on the tensed arm of the man brooding in front of her. "Eirik, what is it about Severus that keeps you here with him, painting in a room that is so much more inferior to your own studio, away from your own house?"

Eirik played with the letter. He set it down on the table, smoothing out the wrinkles. He looked almost shy, thought Freya.

Wary, in a soft voice, Eirik answered her. "He completes me."

She smiled at him. "A rare favour, that. Well, then, Eirik, return the favour."

He nodded. "Wolf's honour, Freya." Then he stood up, yelling, "Orm! Ketil! Pack our bags. For three days, including formal wear. For weather that is truly spring, not for what passes for it here! Get it all to this conference and tell them we're on our way."

As the door slammed behind him on his way to the lab, Freya sighed and, with a smile for something well accomplished, she reached for her notes.

Bera Hillswick was in awe of the man working at her side. The potion they were making dealt with the healing of wounds which were severely infected, almost gangrenous. Sometimes things happened to her werewolf kin when they were in Change and roamed far away from the Village. Sometimes they didn't make it back, or near enough back, when they Changed back to human form. Sometimes they died of their badly infected wounds.

This potion would be of great help to her and the others who were involved with the health and care of the Villagers.

The potion was not something that she would have tried on her own. She was a good Potions Maker, but she was wise enough to know that this one was beyond her skills.

But not beyond the skills of the man who had invented the Wolfsbane.

Bera looked at Professor Snape from under her lashes. She was honoured that he was allowing her to help him. But more than that, he was also showing her the proper way of making the potion, explaining what he was doing and why. As if he eventually expected her to be able to do so.

She knew those Aurors had made comments in the hearing of the Villagers about the Professor, about his being a traitor and a murderer, but she hadn't believed them then and never would, not now.

They were in the final stages of the making, waiting for it to cool down so that it could be bottled when the door of the lab burst open and Eirik Brekke charged in.

"There's no other word for it," she told her father that night at supper. "The door slammed open and Mr. Brekke rushed in, all angry. The Professor was so startled that he didn't say anything."

She giggled, blushing slightly. "Then he couldn't because Mr. Brekke had the Professor in his arms and was kissing him. Then, when he finally broke it off, he looked at me - Mr. Brekke, that is - and asked me if I could finish off the potion on my own. Well, I could. There was only the cleaning up and bottling left to do, so I said yes. And then, he grabbed the Professor again and kissed him. And they disapparated!

"Madam Freya helped me finish the bottling. She kept on asking me to describe again what I'd seen and then she'd smile."

Severus was peeved. No, more than that, he could feel himself grow angry. What bloody right did Eirik have to barge into his lab that way and...and grab him like that? He was making a potion, one that required a great deal of concentration. It was only fortunate that he and the girl had been done otherwise an entire cauldron of a complicated potion could have been ruined.

And why the hell was Eirik still insisting on kissing him? Surely he could feel how unco-operative he was being!

Severus pulled his mouth away from his lover's, ready to let loose with the most scathing comment he could think of when he suddenly realized that they were not in the lab anymore.

Not only that, that they had an audience.

He stepped back from Eirik and glared at the two witches who were watching them with eyes wide open and faces blushing. What was wrong with them? Hadn't they ever seen anyone kiss before?

And a short, rotund wizard who was looking as though he wanted to laugh but wasn't.

"Professor Snape, I presume," said the wizard, coming down some steps, hand out in greeting. "May I say how absolutely delighted we are that you could join us this year. We despaired of ever getting you to attend our gatherings. I'm Petronius Togidubnus, this year's chairman of the Potion Masters Conference." He had grabbed Severus's hand and was shaking it repeatedly as he spoke.

"Professor Togidubnus? I... That is to say..."

Severus had no idea what to say. He allowed the wizard to continue shaking his hand as he looked about, finally lighting on Eirik who was watching him, his grin reflecting his self-satisfaction.

Eirik avoided his glare to step up and get the attention of the Chairman. "Good afternoon, Professor. My name is Eirik Northlander. I apologize for our appearances, but I've only just managed to get Severus away from his cauldron. I'm certain that you yourself will have no problem understanding that."

The Chairman was delighted to shake Eirik's hand. "Mr. Northlander. This is an honour. We met once, at President Brekke's inauguration I doubt that you'll remember..."

"Potions Master at the Milano School of Magic. You recently wrote a challenge supporting the non-traditional usage of Phoenix tears in certain potions. And I believe you know my mother, Hildigunn Neilsen Brekke."

Professor Togidubnus actually reddened as he beamed with pleasure. "Yes, oh, my."

Severus couldn't believe what he was hearing. And he thought that Eirik was pouring on the Brekke charm a little too thickly. "Professor Togidubnus..."

"Yes, yes. You'll want to register and take a minute or two to find your things and change. I believe that your house elf has seen to your luggage and the room. Now then, we only need you to sign in and these two charming ladies will provide you with the itinerary for the next three days. Mr. Northlander, will you be accompanying Professor Snape or will you be occupied elsewhere?"

"I'd like to accompany Severus and, if people don't mind, sketch a little."

Mind?" Professor Togidubnus couldn't grin any more widely. "Of course not. I don't see how anyone would mind being sketched by you. I'll just see to a registration for yourself so that you will be allowed in. I must, however, indicate that there are certain presentations to which, I apologize, you will not be admitted. I'm afraid the opening speech will be one of those."

"No need. I understand. That will allow me to revisit some old friends. The local museums and art galleries."

Severus finished signing in and accepted his bag of conference information from one of the witches who whispered, "It is such an honour, Professor Snape, to finally meet you in person."

"Thank you," he whispered back, not really understanding why they were whispering.

And then they were in the room assigned to them and Eirik was pushing him into the bathroom. "Shower. The welcoming speech has already begun. I'll see to your clothes."

Severus stopped so suddenly that Eirik bumped into him.

"What?"

Severus opened his mouth to say something but Eirik pushed him into the bathroom, and turned on the water in the shower. "Later, love. You can yell at me all you want this evening. Now get going. You need to get rid of that odour of..." he wrinkled his nose, "of what ever it is that you used in your potion. Smells very medicinal."

Ten minutes later, Severus found himself entering a small hall filled with the most powerful wizards of his specialty. At the doorway, one of the two witches who had been part of the welcoming committee, smiled as she cast a Translation Spell on him. No matter what language was being spoken, he would hear his own.

He quietly made his way to a seat at the back and sat down. One or two others who were sitting there turned to see who the latecomer was. He expected to be told to get out but instead, with a slight lowering of their heads, they greeted him as one who belonged in their midst and returned their attention to the speaker.

Severus sat back, slipped his hands into his robe sleeves, and listened.

The afternoon, after the welcoming speeches and announcements were over, was spent socializing.

Severus wasn't the last arrival. There were one or two others who apparated in the lobby still wearing their working robes. Thankfully, everyone was wearing name tags, which looked idiotic, but which meant that there was no need to try and put a name to a face. Potions Masters didn't socialize much and this was an awkward time for many, not just Severus.

He accepted a drink from a passing house elf and found a quiet corner in which to remind himself that he was truly here, in Milano, Italy, in the presence of men and women who were only familiar to him through their writings. That had been the one thing not denied him, his right to write investigations on potional theory and to publish the results of his experimentation. And though the Wolfsbane had taken him years to perfect, he had established a small reputation as an innovator of certain new potions, a reputation which had allowed Dumbledore to boast that Hogwarts had the best Potions curriculum of all schools.

It was obvious that some of these people were good friends, some knew of others enough to make a personal reference, still others like himself were making their way to corners or shadows in order to watch before getting involved.

Professor Togidubnus was making the rounds, greeting some, waving to others, and doing his best to pull people out of the shadows into conversation with others.

When he stopped in front of Severus, Severus smiled at him, a little ruefully. "I see that there is as much politics among us as any diplomatic gathering."

Togidubnus grinned as he shrugged in a very Italian manner. "I enjoy the politics which is why I suppose this is the fifth time I serve as Chairman. And I enjoy introducing people to others whom I think they will enjoy meeting in turn. Professor Snape, may I introduce you to Sun Yat-Sun. Professor Sun, Severus Snape. I think the two of you will find that you have a great deal in common."

Sun Yat-Sun was not quite as tall as Severus. More slight than thin. Many decades older. He wore a heavy embroidered black and silver on black Mandarin silk garment that ended below his knees. His trousers were of the same black silk, unembroidered, though the black slippers on his feet were decorated with Chinese hieroglyphics identical to those on his robe. His thick grey-white hair was cut short and he was clean shaven except for a long, greyish moustache which framed his mouth and chin.

Sun's dark eyes had been just as busy evaluating Severus. He cocked his head to one side and raised an elegant eyebrow. "So, tell me, Professor Snape, just what kind of shit are you in with your Minister for Magic?"

Eirik was propped up against a stack of pillows on the bed when Severus entered their room. He glanced at his lover over the top of the newspaper he was reading: La Gazzetta della Stregoneria Italiana.

"Done for now?"

Severus pulled up a convenient armchair and made himself comfortable. "Seems we have some free time until dinner at eight."

Eirik folded the paper and rested it on his lap. He pointed to a tray with a variety of finger foods and half a bottle of red wine. "I think you missed lunch. You might like a few of those to hold you until supper."

Severus shook his head. "They saw to it that there was food along with the wine during the social hour. It seems that Potion Makers have a noted tendency of forgetting to eat while at work."

Eirik grinned. "Ain't that the truth."

"You sound very Luc. Does that mean that she's also here?"

Eirik crossed his arms over his chest. "You're angry. Why don't you just let it all out and you'll be able to enjoy tonight's dinner with your colleagues."

Severus cocked an eyebrow. "Angry?" He looked for a moment as though he were considering the idea for the first time.

Eirik's grin grew. "Let it out, Severus."

Severus merely continued looking pensive. "No. I can't say that I'm angry. Not now, anyway. I was when we got here. But now that we're here, now that I've met some people that I never thought I would ever get a chance of meeting, I think I prefer to thank you."

Eirik looked delighted. "Really? And just how do you intend to do that?"

Severus shrugged. "Is there anything you can think of?"

"How much time do we have?"

Severus made a small procedure of looking up at the ceiling. "I would think enough for me to express my gratitude."

Eirik sighed loudly. "Well, if you feel you'd like to..." He pulled a pillow out from under his head and tossed it toward the foot of the bed. "How about your hips on that with your arse high up?"

Severus contemplated the pillow. "Dressed or undressed?"

"Buck naked."

He thought about it. "I think that might be possible. If you're sure that's what you want?"

"I think that might do as a beginning."

They were late arriving for dinner, though, again, not the last.

They were also not the only male couple. Most of the Potions Masters were accompanied by a partner of some sort, whether mate or assistant, though Professor Sun was the only one who wore his around his neck.

Eirik was the first one who noticed that Professor Sun's fur collar was occasionally lapping at the glass of wine he held up to it. And that throughout the meal, Sun fed it tidbits of the meat. And that when he did, the opposite end wriggled.

The Professor acted as if what he was doing was perfectly normal, and Eirik noticed that no one at their table, not even Severus, seemed to find his actions strange. They were all discussing a question that had been posed on the methodology of determining the proper time for making a potion with unicorn hair. Not something that interested Eirik greatly. He did smile and nod at the appropriate moments, remembering that Severus had supported him during his exhibition. But Professor Sun did interest him and, surreptitiously, he pulled out a small sketch pad from a pocket and charcoal from another, and began trying to figure out just what the fur around his neck actually was.

The old wizard caught him at it and just smiled, going back to the conversation.

From Professor Sun's collar, Eirik moved on to sketching Sun's face, and then those others around the table. They were a small group, only five. The last couple were a witch and her very enthusiastic assistant. The common element was an intensity of feeling while they discussed their beloved potions. Even Severus seemed less withdrawn than usual.

He's relaxed, thought Eirik. At ease. Not just from the sex they'd had, but also because he was surrounded by people who were like him. People who lived and breathed potions. Loved potions.

Eirik made a note alongside one of his sketches of Severus to have Finnbogi compile a list of these kinds of meetings. It was only fair, he thought as he returned to the mysterious fur collar: Severus endured his father's invitations, he'd dealt with Eirik's exhibition. There would be time for his interests.

For the remainder of the conference, Eirik presented himself only at the social gatherings, deciding that Severus really did not need him to worry about while he was having fun at the presentations, presentations that Eirik truly didn't understand. And in truth, Milano was not that hard a burden.

The conference organizers had scheduled a large block of free time that last day, during the mid-day, so that attendees could see something of the city. Eirik had tossed Severus a Muggle change of clothing after the morning seminar and hauled him off - not all that reluctantly - for a quick tour of a couple of art galleries. Then, off to lunch at one of the outdoor cafes overlooking a terraced garden.

Harry Potter found himself doing a classic double-take.

Couldn't be!

He stopped and squinted at the two men sitting at a table, one casually sipping wine while the one wearing sunglasses seemed to be drawing.

He turned to the two members of his team who were with him. "Listen, I'll meet you all back at the hotel. I've seen someone I know."

"But, Potter, Coach said we were to stick together."

As he started towards the caf, Harry tossed over his shoulder, "That's just because most of you have never been in Muggle territory before. You forget I lived in it for more than half of my life."

He crossed the crowded street and ran up the couple of steps to stand in front of the table. "Professor Snape?"

"Potter! What are you doing here?"

Harry grinned at the man. "We're playing a round of matches with Italy. We won the last one and as our reward, the Coach's given us time off. It seems that exploring Muggle life is suppose to broaden our horizons."

Harry watched as one of the first smiles he'd ever seen on this man grew to include the gorgeous man no longer drawing.

"Potter, I'd like you to meet..."

Harry noticed that the seated man seemed to hold his breath.

"I'd like you to meet my partner, Eirik Northlander. Eirik, this is Harry Potter."

Harry looked from one man to the other. Partner, eh? Shit, how the hell had Severus Snape ended up with a lover who looked like this?

"Pleased to meet you." Northlander offered his hand. "Congratulations on making First Seeker. Alexander regards you as quite his hero."

Harry grinned as he shook hands. "Thank you. And that's very kind of Alexander."

"Please," Snape smiled again - Snape smiling! What universe was this? - "join us. We're just trying to decide what to have for lunch."

"Are you sure? I'm not interrupting anything?'

Snape sat down, gesturing to an empty seat. "Only Eirik's sketching."

Northlander called out in Italian, attracted a waiter who hurriedly produced another glass and platter of antipasto.

"You don't mind?" he asked, pointing to his sketch pad with a piece of charcoal.

Harry shrugged. He was used to the Media taking pictures - and no longer just for his publicity value! - this wouldn't be all that different. "No, not at all." He turned to Snape. "Professor, what are you doing here?"

Snape's eyebrow rose in that oh, far too familiar way. But instead of some scathing remark, he only said, "We've been attending a Potions Masters conference which is ending tonight."

"Severus has been wallowing in Potions talk." Northlander teased.

"Not entirely. I wallowed in art galleries for several hours today." He poured Harry a glass of wine and refilled the other two.

Harry sat back, almost stunned. Though mocking, Snape's tone was minus the biting edge that had made Potions classes so uncomfortable.

"Makes for a balanced intellect," Northlander grinned. "Don't you think so, Mr. Potter?"

Harry found he was grinning back in turn. "I wouldn't know. According to some, it doesn't require much intellect to do what I do."

He'd never dared do that, he thought, tease Snape. He wondered if his audacity was going to be punished. Maybe his head taken off.

Snape shrugged. "You'll move on when it's time. I trust in your own levels of boredom. Besides, you're young. And it's time you had some fun."

Harry nearly fell off his chair.

"Riky! Sevvie!"

Sevvie? Sevvie! There was actually someone on the planet who had the balls to call Severus Snape `Sevvie'?

Harry stood up as did the others. And this time his jaw dropped open. He knew he probably looked like some idiot, but he couldn't get his mouth to cooperate.

The woman who was hugging and kissing the two men was... was hot, even if she was older than he was.

She was dressed in leather pants, tucked into a pair of knee-high matching leather boots with those stiletto heels which made Harry wonder how she managed on the cobbled walkways. Her cream silk blouse was unbuttoned almost to the waist and served as a frame for several necklaces of gold that he finally realized were in fact amulets of some kind.

In her heels, she was tall, but she still had to reach up to get Northlander to make himself accessible. Her shoulder length blondish hair framed a face more intelligent than beautiful.

"Riky," she kissed Northlander's cheek, then wiped the lipstick off with a rub of her thumb, "why aren't you working? Sevvie, you look gorgeous." She added a hug - Damn it! She was actually hugging the man once known as the Greasy Git! - to her kisses, "Has he painted you yet?"

And Snape hugged and kissed her back!

"And who is this?"

Her voice purred over his nerves.

Snape did the introductions. "Luc, this is Harry Potter. I think you may know him from the tabloids. Britain's victorious Seeker on the National Team and a former student."

Harry noted that any mention of his association with Voldemort had been omitted: a fact he appreciated.

"Harry, may I present Luciana Fortunata. She's Eirik's American agent."

"Madam Fortunata." Harry took her hand in his and raised it to his lips in approved continental fashion. Her hand gripped his in return.

"Of course, I've read about your exploits, Harry. I may call you Harry? I understand that our team didn't have much of a chance when they played yours last month. In fact, I believe there were some accusations in our Media that you were playing with them, rather than against them."

"The spectators had paid to see a match, Madam..."

"Luc," she interrupted, her hand still in his.

"Thank you. They had paid to see a match, Luc," he allowed his voice to caress the word - well, he had learnt a few things since leaving Hogwarts! - "and I doubt that they would have thought they'd had their money's worth if they'd had to go home in the first five minutes."

Luc leaned forward as she sat and one of her breasts decided to follow. Harry couldn't take his eyes off it. He found he was curling his hands into fists to keep from touching it.

And those flashes of plump flesh certainly kept his attention all through the meal. He knew that he was the cause of some of the smiles shared between Snape and his lover, but he didn't mind. He wondered how Luc felt about younger men.

Talk at the table turned to Northlander's work and Harry realized that he was going to add art galleries to his list of things to visit when he had time.

"I don't understand why he hasn't painted you yet, Sevvie. I mean, one of you sitting here in the sun, looking scrumptious."

Harry shifted his attention from the woman to the man. She'd called Snape gorgeous and now scrumptious. He sat back and took a good look at his former Potions instructor.

Snape was looking more relaxed than he'd ever seen him. Mind, that probably had a lot to do with the man at his side. Because, though they were through fighting Voldemort and his Dark Forces, Snape's reward had been anything but. Banishment.

Come to think about it, if he was banished, what was he doing here, in Milan? He'd need papers of some kind, identification papers at the very least, to travel. He doubted that he got them from the Ministry responsible.

And yes, now when he really looked at him, he did look...well, not gorgeous, but definitely attractive.

Not in his usual black, but in a dark grey suit with a lighter grey shirt that was open at the collar, and down a couple of buttons, revealing a smattering of black hair. Casual yet elegant. And elegantly draped over his chair as he spoke with the bewitching Luciana Fortunata. And, yes, when he really thought about it, damn if the man didn't have something.

Yes, well, he was going to have to revamp his impression of Professor Severus Snape.

Something brushed his arm and Harry looked to see one of Northlander's sketches falling to the ground. He bent to retrieve it at the same time as Northlander. Harry glanced up to find himself looking into a pair of no longer sunglassed wolf eyes. He'd seen eyes like that, once, when he'd dropped in to visit Sirius and Remus during a full moon. Remus's eyes had looked just like that after he'd Changed.

Less threatening, however. A whole lot less.

"Mine." Northlander's voice was a soft growl.

Harry nodded. He was proud that he didn't gulp.

They were discussing the fact that one of the consequences of the Triwizard Tournament was the now nearly concluded discussions of a Quidditch Schools League when they were interrupted.

Harry looked up and found he was being glared at by one of the Team trainers.

"Potter. The Coach thinks you should join him."

Harry looked around and found his coach, accompanied by Ludo Bagman, standing at the corner, casting angry glances their way.

The atmosphere at the table grew very still.

"Skidder," Harry spoke very softly, feeling the kind of anger rise in him that he hadn't had to deal with in many months, "I was under the impression that my time was my own until practice tomorrow at one o'clock."

Skidder checked back nervously with the two men on the corner. He returned to Harry. "Look, do you have any idea who this man is?"

Northlander made as if to get up but Snape stopped him with a hard hand on his arm. Luc's lip curled as she looked the trainer up and down as if he were something that offended her, and then turned her head away from him, dismissing him.

"Oh, sorry." Damn, when had he picked up Snape's sarcasm? "I should have introduced you. Skidder, Professor Severus Snape. My old Potions instructor from Hogwarts. And the man who kept me alive so that I can today catch the Snitch that guarantees yet another victory for Britain."

"Harry..."

Harry held up his hand so that Snape wouldn't interrupt. "Skidder. The Coach has the right to demand my attention as regards any matter related to Quidditch. He does not have the right to tell me who my friends may be. Especially considering the company he's at present keeping. Now then, today, I am with my friends and tomorrow, I shall be at Quidditch practice for one o'clock. One has nothing to do with the other. Good day, Skidder."

And he turned his back on the man. After a moment, the trainer slunk away.

"Harry." This time there was no hiding Snape's concern.

Harry took a deep breath. "It's all right, sir. As long as the Boy Who Lived continues to catch the Snitch and provides publicity value , I can pretty much do what I want." Even he was taken aback by the line of bitterness he could hear in his own voice.

"And when you don't?" Snape asked gently.

Harry shook off the moment and smiled at Snape's concern. "Beauxbatons has approached me about coaching their entry in the Schools League during off season. Madame Maxime is far more interested in that than in any British politics."

"Not Hogwarts?" Luc leaned over and there was yet another flash of breast.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe eventually, once this thing gets off the ground, but I think I want to experience some other realities before I head back into home territory. Besides," he grinned at Snape, "I need to find out if I truly like coaching and if I have any skill for it before I go foul up the home team."

"A good idea," said Snape.

Harry laughed. "I think so, Professor."

Snape shook his head. "And I think we've gone beyond titles. So, Severus, if you please."

When Harry got up to leave, Luc announced she was accompanying him. "I have the rest of the day free and there are places here I think you might like to visit."

She kissed the two men. "Riky, I'm inviting myself to Hillswick for the end of June, the beginning of July at the latest. Don't freak out. Just an overnight visit. I'll expect to find that Sevvie's inspired you to new heights. You've got a good month to impress me. Sevvie, be well."

Then she slipped her arm under Harry's and led him off.

"What did you tell her when she kissed you?"

They were strolling back to the demarcation point amidst the bushes behind the Roman column.

Severus shrugged. "To be gentle with him. He too has his scars which don't show."

Eirik slipped his arm under Severus's as they passed through. "Well, if he wasn't any good in bed before, he will be now. Luc's a hell of a teacher."

Severus stopped. "Speaking from experience?"

Eirik's eyes sparkled though he kept his voice serious. "No, love. Luc never mixes business with pleasure and I've always been business. That's why she's still my agent." Then he pulled Severus into his arms and kissed him. "I like it when you get that snarky, possessive tone in your voice."

Severus's only response was a scoff.


	6. Six by Josan

Part Six

Severus lay naked on their bed, waiting for Eirik to join him. He was still slightly pink from the hot bath that Eirik had teased him into taking. Severus was a shower man, but now and then, with the right motivation...

Eirik had been planning this night since the day they had left for Milan. He'd thought about it and had decided that, once and for all, Severus was going to learn to share his needs with him. Oh, he was coming along rather well on his sexual ones. But his emotional, his intellectual needs were another matter.

He'd made doubly certain that their bedroom had been spelled for silence. He didn't want Freya feeling she had to burst in.

Eirik knelt on the side of their bed and knee-walked over to the body that was ready to welcome him. With a bit of a grin, he straddled Severus and sat back, his arse rubbing teasingly on his lover's groin. Severus made that little grunting sound that usually lit Eirik's fire. Tonight, he mentally doused it. If all went as he planned, it was going to be a long night for both of them.

He leaned over and brought his hands up along Severus's arms, moving them so that they were stretched above his head. Eirik leaned over and kissed him.

Severus's mouth opened almost immediately. It had taken Eirik a few months to figure it out, but he'd finally concluded that what Severus's scent was to him, his taste was to Severus. So he fed him. Didn't mind feeding him as Severus allowed him to feast equally on him.

He pulled up his head and Severus tried to follow his mouth.

"Uh, uh."

Severus opened his eyes. Eirik loved the sight of Severus's eyes as he succumbed to his libido. They went from dark brown to a black that made them look like bottomless pits only he could fill.

He moved their hands so that Severus's were against the spindles that decorated the head of the bed. "Do you remember, once I told you what I would do to you if I decided that you needed punishing?"

Severus grew very still. There was a flash of more than wariness in those eyes of his that gave Eirik qualm. No, he was going to do this. Severus needed to learn this lesson he was going to teach him tonight.

"That you would punish me by sucking all the cum out of me." Said neutrally.

Eirik wondered if he'd consciously omitted the first part but nodded. "That's right. And now, do you have any idea why I might feel the need to punish you?"

The position he was holding was hard on his back, but he had no intentions of letting Severus's hands loose, nor of straightening. This conversation needed to be held eye to eye.

Severus slowly shook his head.

"All right. I suppose it's not totally your fault that you don't understand about sharing your needs. After all, you've been taught so often that they're not a priority. But now they are, Severus. With me, your needs are always a priority."

"Eirik..." There was a hint of exasperation in among the trepidation.

"You put your needs second to father's when he asked that you appear at his birthday celebration. You did the same when we were summoned to the closing of the IFOW annual meeting. You did it again when you accompanied me to New York, where you took care of me as no one else ever has. You allowed me to drag you through museums, art galleries and not once - *not once*, Severus! - did you indicate that there were places that you would have liked to visit while we were there. Not one apothecary store. Not one occasion of dropping in for drinks with a fellow Potions Master. Nothing.

"And when you received that invitation for the conference, instead of mentioning it to me, you tossed it into the trash. I want to know why, Severus. It's not as though you really didn't want to go. You had a great time there, meeting others like you who adore potions. Who need potions in their lives as much as you do. So why didn't you tell me?"

Eirik waited through the silence that followed. Severus looked uncomfortable. He wriggled as though trying to get away and Eirik dropped his weight onto Severus's chest.

"Severus. Why?"

Severus licked his lips. Finally he said, "Because... Oh, lots of reasons."

"You can do better than that, Severus."

Severus shrugged. "Because I wasn't certain how I would be received. Because I supposed I was afraid that it might be a let-down. I had often wondered what it would be like."

Eirik didn't let up. "And?"

After a moment, Severus said quietly, "Because I wasn't certain it wasn't a trick of some kind."

Eirik nodded. Keeping his voice sympathetic, he offered, "I can understand all that, Severus, but I don't think that's all."

Severus sighed in exasperation. "Because even though you don't seem to think it important, I am under Pronouncement of Banishment. If I leave Hillswick, I may not be allowed back. And this is the only home I have ever had."

Eirik nodded. "Yes, maybe I don't see this Banishment thing as you do. You're the one who's under its Pronouncement, not I. But, Severus, if you had cared to mention that to me, I would have contacted Finnbogi and have him come here and explain to you that the documents he's given you mean that, much as Dumbledore and his Aurors dislike the fact, you are protected under international diplomatic law.

"Completely protected as any other diplomat is. And Finnbogi should know: he wrote up the documents. And he's a top prime coverer of arses, is Finnbogi. And he would have explained to you that in those documents, you are classified as father's expert on matters dealing with Potions. And just because he hasn't called you up in that capacity doesn't mean he won't should the need arise.

"That makes you part of the IFOW's diplomatic corps, Severus. And in that capacity, you are free to roam the world. Well, all of it except for most of British territory. The documents are real, Severus, not just pieces of paper meant to fool an Auror's eye."

Eirik rubbed his cheek against Severus who was lying there, looking at the ceiling.

"I think, love, that you need to learn to ask, to share your concerns with someone. If not with me, then with Freya. Or even Finnbogi. And I think for that lesson to penetrate your beautiful but thick skull, I need to punish you."

There was wariness but no trepidation this time in Severus's eyes. "By sucking all the cum out of me."

Keeping his face serious, Eirik nodded. "Do you agree to allow me to punish you, Severus Snape?"

It took enough time for Eirik to wonder if he had gone too far but then Severus, equally serious, nodded. His voice was rough when he said, "Yes."

"You are to hold onto these spindles, Severus. Never to let go. Is that understood?"

Eirik released Severus's hands which moved to grip the spindles. Good, he thought, now to get on with it.

He sat up, rubbed his arse against Severus's groin, then moved off him.

With a grin that promised all sorts of things, Eirik lay next to his waiting lover.

He propped himself up on an elbow and skimmed the tip of his index finger from the slight hollow at the collarbone, bisecting the lightly furred chest, following the dark line to the cock nestled in its bed of trimmed bush. And then back up again.

Severus was watching him far too seriously, thought Eirik. Still, the fact that he was lying there, hands whitely wrapped around the spindles, boded well for the trust that had been established between the two of them.

He moved his finger to Severus's face, lightly tracing the strong features. He spent some time on the thin-lipped mouth, until it opened and Severus caught the finger between his teeth, holding onto it gently, using his tongue to play with it as he often did with Eirik's cock.

Eirik smiled. Good. Severus was getting into the mind set of the game.

He removed his finger and replaced it with his mouth, claiming Severus's with his tongue.

He could feel it when Severus released his hold on of the spindles, to come touch him. Eirik pulled quickly away. "No." He kept his tone severe. "No. You can't touch me. Your hands have to remain on the spindles."

"Or?" Severus placed his hands back where they belonged, but his look challenged.

"Or I'll stop touching you."

"You're serious."

Eirik nodded. "The choice is yours, Severus, but you did agree to this punishment."

Severus held his eyes and then finally gave a short nod of his head.

"Good. Now then, where was I? Oh, yes, your mouth." And he reclaimed it.

Severus kept to his word all the time Eirik played with his face, sensitizing it with touches that lightly skimmed to caresses with his hand and then his mouth tasting with his teeth lightly biting. When he moved down to include Severus's throat, one of Severus's hands left the spindle once more.

Eirik sat up, shook his head sadly. "Severus," he chastised.

Already breathing heavily, Severus passed his tongue over his lips and swallowed hard. "Sorry. I just wanted to touch you."

Eirik made a production of sitting cross-legged next to the man whose hands were now both again tightly gripping the spindles. "This isn't going to work." He saw the loss in Severus's eyes before he added, "Unless..."

"Unless?"

"Unless I tie your hands."

Eirik had no delusions of what was going through Severus's mind, that he had recalled the first part of Eirik's threat as well as memories of being chained while some Voldemort lackey whipped him. Eirik waited.

Severus lay very still. "All right," he whispered.

Eirik didn't ask him to confirm his decision; he was too afraid that Severus would use the second chance as a way of changing his mind.

He got off the bed and went to rummage in a drawer.

Severus's eyes revealed his surprise.

"Not what you expected?" Eirik dropped the silk scarves on the bed. He tied a knot around Severus's wrist with one end and then, stretching the arm out a little, tied the other end around a spindle in such a way that Severus could grip it. Then he picked up another of the scarves, walked around the bed to the other side, and did the same to the other hand.

He picked up a third scarf and allowed it to dangle from his fingers. "I think that we'll take care of all appendages at this time. You'll find your punishment much easier if you have no choice but to submit to it." And he repeated his actions with first one ankle then the other.

When he was done, Severus was as he had wanted him to be from the beginning, laid out spread-eagle, his body completely open to his touch.

"You know," he made his voice as pensive as possible, as though he were just thinking about this, "I think we'll have to start all over again. The mood's been broken, don't you think?"

The bindings were perfect. By the time Eirik found his way back to Severus's neck, he was wriggling safely in the confines of his bondage, fully able to concentrate on what Eirik was doing to him without having to remember to hold onto the spindles.

Severus's nipples were as sensitive as his own. They lay, begging for his attention, little brown nubs that were surrounded by the light dusting of black hair spread over the pecs.

Eirik loved playing with Severus's nipples. Even after all these weeks together, Severus always acted as though he was surprised by their response to Eirik's tongue and fingers.

He lightly grasped the one he was tormenting between his teeth and pulled on it, delighting in Severus's gasp of pleasure.

He kept glancing up every now and then all the while he amused himself with one and then the other nub. He loved watching his lover's face when he was off into a world of sensation. He also glanced down at the cock riding high, tears of pre-cum slowly oozing out of the piss slit.

With a grin that several of his past lovers knew all too well, Eirik sat up.

It took Severus a good minute to realize that Eirik's mouth was no longer on him, his fingers no longer pinching and teasing.

"Wha...?" he gasped.

Eirik rested his elbows on his knees, joined his hands and dropped his chin on the small platform they made.

"You know, Severus, I think you need to cool down a little. Punishment is something that you need to contemplate. That requires a certain amount of time and, right now, I think this is going far too fast for the message to get through to you."

"Huh?"

Eirik pretended to be trying to find a solution to what he had perceived as a problem. "Ah, I think I know what will help." And he got off the bed, going to the drawer that held some of the toys purchased while in New York. Oh, they had played with a few of them. The butt plugs. Severus liked that little game. And, once, Eirik had used a cock ring on him, just to show him how it felt. And again a vibrator. Now it was time to do some serious playing.

"I don't want you coming before I decide it's the right time, Severus. That's part of your punishment. I want all the cum you've got in you, so we'd better make sure that it's all there when I want it."

The cock and ball harness was not one that Severus had seen. Eirik made certain it was on snug enough. "I like the separated look on you, Severus. It will make it easier to concentrate on each of your balls in turn. And that strap's not too tight, is it? I want it to prevent your coming, not cut off circulation. That cock's all mine and I want it to remain in good working condition."

He slipped the jar of unguent from under his pillow. Greasing up two fingers, he slipped them into Severus's arsehole, opening him up, making certain that his prostate got its fair share of attention. "Yes, that harness works really quite well."

Severus opened his eyes and managed to raise his head. "Fuck you."

Eirik's eyes gleamed with wickedness. "Yes, love, eventually. If you still have the energy after I'm through with you."

He picked up the butt plug with the wide end he'd laid on the covers. "We haven't tried this one, have we? A bit larger than the others. Now then, relax. Let it find its way in. Ah. Now you'll be ready for me when I want you."

Severus growled, "You seem to have delusions about size, dearling."

Eirik grinned outright. "Oh, my first term of endearment." He leaned over and licked the nearer nipple swollen from his attentions. . "Your lovely tits really are quite demanding, love. They want all my attention. Meanwhile the rest of your delicious body is being ignored. Can't have that." Then he held up some toys they hadn't played with. "Nice little clamps. Gentle little clamps. I particularly like the chain. All I need do is reach up and give a little tug and ..."

And he left the rest of that to the man's imagination as he carefully released the clamps on sensitive flesh.

Severus shouted his reaction.

"Yes," said Eirik, when Severus had finally accepted the sensation on one nipple and then the other, "I think they'll like the attention they'll get this way." And he gave the chain a little tug.

"Merlin!" Severus gasped, swallowing hard.

"Sorry, only the two of us are allowed in this bed. No one else, Severus. I don't share."

And he tugged a little less gently on the chain. Severus's chest arched and he moaned loudly.

Eirik listened carefully. He'd once explained to Severus that there was a difference between hurt and pain. He wanted some of this to hurt, but not be painful. It was a fine distinction, but he thought that after tonight Severus would understand.

Meanwhile, there was a navel that required attention, a rib cage that was particularly sensitive to skimming fingertips and soft inner thighs that cried out for marks of possession.

And there were things that needed doing for his own pleasure.

He loved the scent rising from his lover. It was intoxicating. Eirik inhaled deeply as he nipped at the now sweat-matted hair in Severus's armpits, licked at the lines of sweat dripping off his rib cage, gathering in his navel. He amused himself making patterns with his tongue on the dusting of hair on Severus's chest and stomach. He buried his nose in his man's groin, revelling in the strong smell of his arousal. He even settled between his open legs and rubbed his nose over his balls, slipped his hands under his arse and raised him enough to scent the smell gathering on the skin of his crack.

All the while, Severus writhed, bucked, jerked and went from moans to groans to curses that were soon incomprehensible. And all the while, Eirik purposefully ignored the reddened cock that was now almost demanding attention.

With a certain sense of wickedness, Eirik unbraided his hair. Severus loved playing with it when they were lying together, after a first session, or even if all they were doing was talking the day over. He'd taken to braiding it for him most mornings: Eirik loved the feel of Severus's hands in his hair. Now he flipped it all forward and then trailed the ends over skin that was oversensitized to anything but air.

Severus arched up into the feel of it, moaning.

Eirik nodded and concentrated on sweeping his hair back and forth, across nipples that screamed their want, the flat stomach that trembled. He used it to tease bitten and marked inner thighs so that hips rose high in response. He gathered it in his hand and used it to whip the reddened balls, the purpled glans, in rhythm to the shouts and profanities of the man on the bed.

Eirik sat back on his heels, pushed back his sodden hair, and tugged once more on his own balls, trying to keep himself in control. Damn but the man made a lovely picture. Hair soaking wet, head rocking back and forth, eyes closed but face feral with his need. Those lovely shoulders barely resting on the bed, with heels digging in, as his hips arched high as he could get them in supplication of ease, in their need for his touch. And that arse, cheek muscles visibly clenching on and off the butt plug buried in it; the balls and cock threatening to burst from their confinement.

Time, thought Eirik, it was time.

Jar in hand, he greased himself, then pulled the butt plug out, not particularly gently. Reaching back, he tugged on the loose ends of the scarves, releasing Severus's feet, and quickly grabbed his knees, holding them more widely apart. Eirik rose onto his knees, forcing Severus's hips up and shifting his weight to rest on his shoulders. With accurate aim, Eirik nestled the head of his cock and then rammed himself into the still open hole.

Severus was vocally appreciative.

As he rocked back and forth, Severus tired to meet his rhythm, but by separating his legs even further apart, Eirik made it impossible for him to do anything but accept.

It didn't take Eirik long to come, he'd been ready long minutes before. He dropped the slippery legs, leaned over his lover's body, rubbing his body along the bound cock, and, reaching up, took Severus's head between his hands and devoured his open mouth.

Then, he slipped down, making certain to tug on the chain that connected two very, very sensitized tits and, holding Severus's thighs wide apart, he lowered his mouth and claimed the cock that was his.

Severus screamed.

Eirik sucked hard on the cockhead, the uncovered glans a plum to be devoured. He licked clean the slightly sour drops that had been seeping out, reached for the release on the harness and swallowed his man's cock to the root.

That was all it took. Severus continued screaming until there was nothing left to be sucked out of his cock. Then, suddenly, the noise stopped. Eirik quickly looked up. Severus's eyes had rolled back and he was slipping into unconsciousness.

Eirik pushed himself up, and checked that Severus was breathing properly. Slowly, he made his way out of bed. He released Severus's hands and used his wand to dry the bed of his sweat. He removed the nipple clamps and picked up the rest of the toys. He wanded them clean before putting them away. He used the bathroom to clean himself and piss. He tied his hair back in a loose knot. When he slipped into his side of the bed, he lay back and moaned softly in contentment. He pulled Severus close to him - the man was softly snoring - and cocooned himself about his lover. Then he tugged the covers over them.

With a sigh, he joined Severus in sleep.

Severus wandered in the world between sleep and wakefulness.

He sometimes knew he was in bed and sometimes even remembered whose head was nestled on his stomach. What finally woke him was the soft snore that penetrated the fog surrounding his brain. He gradually grew aware of other things: that his nipples were sore, that his arsehole felt empty. That he hadn't a bone left in his body.

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, a slow smile growing on his face.

Yes, well, Eirik had warned him that he fully intended sucking every drop of cum out of him and Severus truly believed that he had.

Punishment like that... Well, not what he was used to. He'd never felt like this after a session with Voldemort, or even after one of Dumbledore's dressing downs.

He craned his neck just enough to see the head on his stomach. The long white-blond hair was tangled. Of its own volition, his free hand reached for the hair and carded its fingers in it.

So many things had changed since this man had come into his life.

So many things had changed because of the consequences of that one time Dumbledore had loosened his leash enough for him to come here, to this, the further-most of Britain's magical villages.

His fingers drew up one long lock and gently worked their way though the tangles and knots, allowing the separated hairs to fall, to drape over his groin.

Inga Hillswick had found him one day as he had stood on the edge of a cliff overlooking a rock-infested shore line. The plunge had been almost siren in its calling to him. But he hadn't been able to follow it with the young woman watching him. She'd brought him back to the house, had fed him, had warmed him, not just by a fire, but in her bed. He wasn't vain enough to think that he'd been any good, but he had done his best to satisfy her, considering the so very little experience he had, even with his own sex.

Mutual gropes in the showers, behind the bed curtains while other dormmates were busy behind theirs. Lucius Malfoy had been the one to `pop his cherry', as Malfoy had so delicately put it. But not because he had felt any attraction to the horny teenager who had no friends, but because he had been collecting `cherries'.

Voldemort hadn't taught him much more. What had Eirik said? A hole to be filled. Yes, that's what he'd been.

And he'd been willing to play that role because?

He winced. Because it had meant that someone acknowledged he was alive.

He raised his hand and let the hair trickle through his fingers.

Severus had obediently returned to Hogwarts when Dumbledore had ordered him back because he'd accepted that was all his life would be. That there would be no warmth in it and that was what he'd deserved. Inga hadn't asked him to stay when he'd left that final morning. Even though she had sensed that he wouldn't be back, she had thanked him.

For Alexander.

A child. His son.

Who loved him without question. In spite of his sarcasm, his snarls. His reputation as a mean bastard.

Unconditional love. He'd heard someone use that expression about children before Alexander had come into his life and he hadn't been able to understand what it had truly meant.

He did now.

In the giving. And in the receiving.

Alexander's great gift to him had been his acceptance of his father's love, as it was. Hesitant and wary at first and then, when it hadn't been rejected, with a gradual fullness of spirit. Growing more and more with each day.

The Severus Snape of Hogwarts would have laughed himself silly if someone had told him that he was capable of that much love. That Snape hadn't any in him. He sometimes wondered where it all came from. Was there a limit to it? Would one day he discover that, like some large bottle of potion, he had used it all up?

It didn't seem to be like that. It seemed to grow as needed.

From Alexander to Freya.

To...

Severus shook his head slightly. No, not yet. He wasn't ready to go there yet. This was still all too new to him. He was too used to having his needs used against him. In spite of knowing rationally that Freya and Eirik weren't like that, emotionally he wasn't ready to allow himself that freedom.

Because that was the problem. Much as he was drawn to this man, much as he cared for him...and yes, he did most certainly care for him...he wasn't yet ready to admit that there was more.

Not when he looked into a mirror and saw what he saw.

Maybe he had changed somewhat on the inside, but outwardly, he was still the ugly child whose presence, even existence, his parents hadn't been able to tolerate. Whose classmates had found difficult and even repulsive. Who had proved the butt of too many Marauder plots. Whose only value to Voldemort, apart from his ability with potions, was as a hole to be filled. Whom Dumbledore...

Eirik snorted, rubbing his face against Severus's body as though challenging his thoughts. Severus forced his body to relax. Eirik settled once more.

Severus liked these times when he was awake and Eirik wasn't. He liked looking at this man who usually had some kind of hold on him, as though wanting to keep him near. An arm draped across him, a hand holding onto his leg. A leg thrown over his.

Eirik Brekke was a cuddler.

Severus had heard of such things. It had made him uncomfortable at first when he'd awakened and found himself...possessed. Merlin! He hadn't even been used to spending an entire night in the same bed with the person he'd had sex! Inga had been the only other one he'd actually spent nights with, not leaving to return to his own bed or his own room. And she had allowed him half her bed while she'd slept in hers.

Eirik followed him about.

If Severus moved, trying to put some space between them, Eirik would soon reach out and find him. It had made him uncomfortable at first, but now he had to admit that he liked the fact that even in his sleep, Eirik needed to know he was there.

And it was more than in bed.

Eirik was interested in what he was doing in his lab. He'd begun reading his manuals on Potions, the articles Severus had published. He asked questions. Severus didn't think for one moment that Eirik would take up potions making, but he was curious and he wanted his curiosity satisfied.

And he'd opened up a new world to Severus. One which he had to admit was beginning to fascinate him. He too asked his questions, and though Eirik often couldn't explain just why he was doing what he was doing, that ambiguity appealed to the researcher in Severus.

And who would have thought that someone as extroverted as he was introverted would need him?

Freya did. She thought they went well together. She'd told him recently that she found he had a calming influence on Eirik and that Eirik brought him out of his shadows.

He'd certainly exposed him to a world that was larger, more complex than Hogwarts!

Far more populated as well.

He brought up a handful of hair and released it across his chest. His stillsensitive nipple twitched at the sensation. Severus smiled to himself at the reawakened throb. Then he frowned as another thought challenged his reverie.

Just how realistic was all this?

Eirik had smelt him and had decided that Severus satisfied some inner genetic need.

Severus grimaced at the ceiling. That was far too severe. Too one-sided.

He too found that Eirik's taste seem to satisfy some inner genetic need of his own.

Fair exchange, when he thought about it. The sense of taste was no more reliable than the sense of smell. Here he was, worried that one day he would no longer smell right to Eirik, when how did he know that one day Eirik would not taste right to him?

Eirik had insisted that his smell was only the initial attraction, that there was more to this...dare he say the word, even if only in his mind? Severus drew up another curtain of hair and watched it drape down. That there was more to this...relationship.

The word terrified him. It drew him.

Once, he would have said that he was not capable of having such a thing...

Say it, he dared himself. Not a thing, a relationship. A life with a partner, with someone who cared for him...as he, Severus, cared for him. Who shared his life as he wanted to share Severus's.

The Severus Snape of Hogwarts in a relationship? No. That would have been beyond him. What a relationship needed, what it all entailed, was something that Snape didn't have in him. Was more, far more than what he could have given.

Back then, he would also have said that he hadn't been capable of love.

Alexander had proved him wrong. Eirik seemed bent on doing so as well.

Severus wondered at how badly he wanted to be proven wrong.

Eirik woke slowly, the scent of his man tickling his nose. He was lying, head on Severus's stomach, one arm about his waist as Severus was sorting out the tangles of Eirik's loosened hair with his fingers then allowing the lengths to drift over them.

They lay that way, Eirik still not truly awake, for several minutes.

"I don't mean to be like that," Severus finally murmured.

Eirik opened his eyes. His hair was covering all of Severus's chest.

"I know." He moved his hand so that the wrist rested on Severus's shoulder while his fingertips stroked the rough line of morning beard along Severus's jaw.

"It's just..."

"It's just that you find it easier to share your body, rather than your needs."

"My...needs have never exactly been of interest to anyone."

Eirik moved his head just enough so that he could rub his nose under Severus's jaw. "That might have been true before, Severus. But no more. You have Alexander who worries about you enough to threaten me if he comes back and finds I've made you unhappy. You have Freya who cares for you. And you have me who loves you, if you'll allow."

"Alexander threatened you?"

Eirik smiled at the amazement in Severus's voice and kissed the skin nearest his mouth. "Yes. He loves you very much, Severus."

"Yes."

Eirik could hear the wonder of that in Severus's voice. Still, after all this time? he thought.

"It's just...I didn't know how to ask or how to bring it up, the conference."

Eirik snuggled closer. Severus was still playing with his hair and Eirik thought that the gesture gave him comfort for some reason.

"It's not hard, love. You throw the invitation at me and say, `I'm going. Are you coming along?'"

There was a small almost unbelieving scoff.

Eirik tightened his hold on his doubtful lover. He moved his head so that he could look into Severus's bottomless eyes. "Severus. Listen to me. There will come a day when I ask you to come with me to some event and you'll be busy in your lab. And you won't be able to come. You'll be working on a potion you can't leave. Or it'll be something that you just can't stand attending. And I'll go by myself. But I will come back, Severus. Just as one day, I may be working on a painting or have to be somewhere else, and you'll go to some Potions Masters meeting alone. But I'll know that you'll come back to me.

"Saying no to something is not saying no to us. Just as informing me that you want to go somewhere is not putting undue strain on our relationship. I've shared all parts of me with you. And somehow you haven't rejected me. Not even when I showed you Riky. Trust me to accept all of you. Because I will."

He lowered his head onto Severus's shoulder and nestled his face against his neck.

Severus rested his cheek on Eirik's head. He had almost fallen back into sleep when Severus spoke. "This...punishment."

Eirik found he was suddenly very awake. "Yes."

"Is it something that you foresee having to do again?"

"If necessary, yes."

"And..."

"And?"

"And is it only a one-way street?"

Eirik was very quiet as he thought of what it would be like to be at Severus's mercy. "Well, I'm certain there will be times when I'll do something that you feel deserves punishment. It wouldn't be good for you to hold that feeling in."

There was a long pause.

"Such as your behaviour after a showing."

Eirik thought about that. His cock had been hard from his morning's erection but it suddenly got harder. "Well, we really would have to find a place to stay where we could put a silencing spell on our room. It's not allowed in the hotel as a security precaution. I'll have to mention that to Luc. She'll probably know of someone's house we can use."

"And then we would need a special case for the...toys."

Eirik moaned as he rubbed his groin against Severus's thigh and felt something hard against his.

"Oh!" Said sharply.

Eirik looked up quickly, his cock gone from his mind. "What?"

"Nipples are sore. You rubbed against one when you did that."

"Want me to spell them?"

Severus looked into his eyes. "No. I want to remember last night, for as long as I can."

Eirik smiled. "So do I. Shall I roll over so that you can do me from behind?"

Severus's grin was positively wolfish.

Alexander Hillswick was bored.

He and Rhodri were sitting in a corner of the Potions classroom, working on an essay for Professor Binn - four feet on the causes and consequences of the meeting that had led to the formation of the International Federation of Warlocks. Geoff was playing around with a new logo he was designing for them: a combined dragon, bat, and wolf.

Several students were attempting to make a potion to remove freckles. Just freckles. The last batch had removed not only freckles, but facial features as well. Madam Pomfrey had not been happy.

Others were reading for some other course; one or two were even dozing.

Professor Grog was snoring away in his chair, feet propped up on the desk.

Suddenly, the door slammed open.

Professor Grog fell off his chair and everyone else turned or looked up to see what had happened.

A slim, elderly man with a long, dangling moustache, dressed in Chinese garb, stood in the doorway, scowling at them all in a rather ferocious manner.

"Who the bloody hell..."

And that was all Professor Grog managed to say before the visitor pulled his wand out of his sleeve and spoke some words in a language no one recognized. Professor Grog levitated off the floor where he'd landed and, with another gesture of the man's wand, floated out of the classroom. The door shut loudly behind him.

The man looked around the classroom.

"Disgusting," he sneered.

Alexander felt a momentary pang of homesickness. His papa used to speak like that in this very classroom.

The man continued walking through the classroom on his way to the instructor's dias, his nose turning up and his lips growing whiter as he examined the condition of the room and what people were doing in it.

He pointed his wand at the remnants of whatever potion had exploded long ago, towards the beginning of the year, which had solidified on the ceiling of the classroom. House elves had long ago refused to come in and clean up after an explosion had occurred when they'd tried to scrap some gunk off a wall.

"You have until the end of this period to put some order into this so-called room of learning."

One of the Gryffindors tried to make for the door. The man gestured with his wand and the boy found himself sticking to the ceiling, his robe already dissolving in reaction to what was there. The man waited until he had almost hit the ground to catch him with his wand and stop him from getting hurt.

"The ceiling and the walls need to be scrapped and then scrubbed down. As do the desks, the work tables. The cauldrons. The floor as well. Ingredients. Where are all the ingredients? Find them, put them in their proper places. The same for all implements."

No one moved. Not even Alexander.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" He included them all in his disdain. "For me to turn you all into slugs? NOW!"

The man was neutralizing some of the more dangerous scum when the door opened and the Headmistress walked in.

She stopped suddenly and looked around.

"Yes, Madam?"

All the third year Slytherins and Gryffindors held their breaths. Their eyes went to the Headmistress.

"May I ask what is going on here?"

Rhodri nudged Alexander who tried hard to contain his grin. Geoff went very still. This was going to be something to write home about, for certain.

"Is it not obvious? The students have decided that the condition of this room is intolerable and have decided to put it to rights."

"He threatened to turn us into slugs," whined one of the Gryffindors.

The Headmistress ignored him. "And you are?"

The man slipped his hands into his sleeves and bowed from the waist. "I am Professor Sun Yat-Sun, your new Potions instructor...should I feel that these so-called students of yours are worth the effort."

As that last had been said in a rather threatening tone accompanied by a definitely unhappy glare, most of them quickly took up their assigned duties.

Behind the Headmistress Alexander could see Professor Grog peering, as if afraid to show more than his nose. When Professor Sun Yat-Sun caught sight of him, Professor Grog disappeared in the hallway.

"May I ask if you have any qualifications to teach this subject, Professor Sun?"

All work stopped again as the professor pulled his wand out of his sleeve and waved it. Several scrolls appeared in the air in front of the Headmistress who reached out for them.

"Perhaps you would care to peruse those in the comfort of your office, Madam, while today's classes see to the restoration of proper form in this room. I shall also wish to inspect the library. I need to assure myself as to the quality of your reference material. Before lunch will be convenient for me."

And he turned his back on the Headmistress. "You!" he pointed to Alexander. "If you've done with that desk, there are others that require your attention."

Alexander suddenly found that he was very taken up with scrubbing.

When Alexander next dared look towards the door, it was closed, and the Headmistress was gone.

Lunch was whispers and tables of students trying to get a look at the man who had installed himself as Potions instructor. Professor Grog, not really to anyone's surprise, was nowhere to be seen.

"He's probably waiting for the Headmistress to come to his defence," muttered someone at the Ravenclaw table. Those who heard snickered.

Rhodri rolled his eyes. "Who else would?"

"Damn," Alexander overheard a Slytherin seventh year. "If Sun didn't sound like old Snape when he snapped at us this morning."

"I never thought I would hear myself say this," said another, "but I've missed Snape. At least he taught us something."

Rhodri's dimples flashed as he grinned, his elbow crashing into Alexander's ribs. Usually Alexander complained that his friend didn't know his own strength but this time all he did was smile. At his other side, Geoff intoned, in his usual rather funereal way, "Ah, yes."

Alexander noticed that Professor Sun spent a lot of the time watching their table. And he wasn't the only one who noticed. The Headmistress had arrived late with Madam Pince and was now watching the Professor watch Slytherin.

The afternoon classes knew what to expect, though the mutterings and moans were wisely kept to a minimum. The last class of the day was the seventh year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Their contribution to the evening meal's gossip was that the Professor had made them shine and wash everything again, as Snape had done at the end of a class. Then he'd looked around the room and nodded. By then, they'd been at their desks, books open, ready to take notes, and the professor had begun a lecture on the ethical uses of Polyjuice Potion.

After the evening meal was over, the Professor and the Headmistress left together and all anyone knew was that by the next morning, Professor Grog was gone, Professor Sun was taking lessons and handing out piles of work to be done before the end of the school year which was less than four weeks away.

The letter from Alexander literally danced with joy about the table. Severus lost hold of it and Eirik managed to grab it before it fell off.

"What's that all about?"

Severus held the quivering paper and scanned it quickly. It would settle down once he'd gotten the gist of the message.

He smiled. "There's a new Potions instructor at Hogwarts."

Eirik looked up from the sketch he was making of the letter's arrival. "Really. Who?"

"Professor Sun Yat-Sun."

Eirik stopped sketching for a moment and then laughed.

There was another letter the next day, a more formal, well-behaved letter with the Hogwarts coat of arms on it.

Severus opened that one cautiously.

"It's from Minerva." He sat back in his chair and read it to Eirik and Freya.

`Dear Severus:

I sense your subtle hand in this and I thank you for it.

I expect Alexander has written you about our new Potions instructor. Frankly, the students can't decide whether to be afraid of him, in awe of him, dislike him, or compare him to you. That last depends on whether they were students when you were teaching here. Mind you, they all agree that Professor Sun Yat-Sun seems to be determined to make up for two years' sloppiness in the time left until the end of term.'

"Well," said Eirik, "that should keep them too busy to blow up anything!"

"Alexander will be disappointed," Freya smiled. "Apart from Quidditch, those have been the highlights of this year."

`We had an interesting talk in my office the first night. His qualifications are impeccable, as I'm certain you well know. Pity he felt the overwhelming urge to turn his cousin, the Chinese Minister for Magic, into a toad. I can sympathize with him: I have often felt that urge myself, especially with family.'

Freya laughed aloud. "Oh, dear. Yes, I have to admit that I have as well."

Eirik nodded. "At least half the Coven!"

Severus just smiled.

`Nevertheless, I can also see why his family and the Ministry would feel that until they can find the toad and restore him to himself, the Professor's presence is rather an embarrassment.'

"Oh, my!" Freya shook her head, smiling widely.

`He has promised me that he will have no such urges while at Hogwarts, probably as the same circumstances are not likely to re-occur. It seems the matter of his feud with his cousin is of long standing, going back to their youth. Moreover, he assures me his family rarely travels outside their country.

He seems rather taken with Hogwarts, though not your dungeon rooms. He's assigned himself one of the East Towers, including a room which he has set up as his personal laboratory. He is much interested in Astronomy and Sinistra is fascinated by his Eastern perspective on the matter. And he has already asked Sprout for space in her greenhouses to grow certain foreign plants. She is, of course, thrilled at the thought of having such specialized plants under her care.

As for myself, I feel I can safely assume that he will be here for the next several terms as he has already begun presenting me with copies of the curricula he wishes to follow. Not quite yours, but there should be far fewer explosions and badly made love potions in the coming year.

Thank you for thinking of us.

Minerva McGonagall.  
Head of Slytherin House  
Headmistress, Hogwarts

P.S. Hagrid is of course beside himself with pleasure over the dragon dog. And the thing is pregnant. I'm not too certain I thank you for that.'

"Dragon dog!" Eirik looked at Freya. "The fur collar is a dragon dog? Those things don't exist."

Severus folded up the letter. "In certain cultures werewolves are said not to exist."

Freya shook her head. "I've never heard of such an animal. What does it look like?"

Eirik tore off a page from his sketch book and began drawing rapidly. With just a few strokes, he had produced a small, very hairy mop-like animal, with four short, skinny legs and black claws. Its nose was the only thing that stuck out from the front, a small black nub.

"That's a rough version of a picture of one I saw at an exhibition in St. Petersburg a few years ago. It was in the corner of a very old portrait of some Chinese official. But since he had been a Minister Responsible for Magical Creatures, I assumed it was representational."

Severus looked at the drawing. "Not bad. Mei-Ming is a little longer in the body. You don't see her wings because they, like her, are covered in a fine fur the same colour as she is. Dragon dogs are rare, but they still do exist. Mind you, it helps to be a member of the oldest pureblood dynasty in all wizardry in order to have one as a pet. Sun probably snuck her out with his things. He had to leave in a hurry when it was discovered that he'd dropped his cousin off in a swamp."

Freya snickered.

Eirik shook his head, sounding very disappointed. "I wish I had been there to see that. It's not every day that one transforms a wizard...or a witch into a small, harmless animal. Especially," he sighed deeply and tried to look very sad, "since I'll never see Luc newtified now that she finds you scrumptious."

The next letter with the Hogwarts coat of arms arrived a week later. It held itself very stiffly.

Severus cursed as he read it. Eirik and Freya waited in silence, sharing worried glances over their cooling lunch, watching him until he looked up.

"The Aurors have been at Hogwarts. Uninvited." He returned to the letter and read.

`Severus.

I hope this gets to you before Alexander writes.

Alexander is all right, as are the rest of Slytherin. Let me put your mind at ease immediately on that score. Angry, upset, shocked and, in some cases, with a return of nightmares, but physically all right.

We had a surprise and totally unexpected visit from an Auror. Two evenings ago at supper.

As you know, under Albus, Hogwarts was set up to be totally independent of Ministerial interference unless called in. I hurry to assure you that I did not call in any Auror, certainly not this specific one. I think you have had dealings with him and will know why when I tell you his name: Section Chief Moastifer.'

"What!" Freya interrupted but Severus held his hand up and continued reading.

`He was one of the Aurors the Headmaster allowed to interrogate Slytherin. He filled up Poppy's infirmary with his version of Veritaserum. I will not discuss the arguments that occasioned between Poppy and Albus, nor between myself and Albus, but will only say that the man left a bitter taste.

We were at the evening meal when he suddenly walked into the Hall, from the side hallway entrance. The Slytherin side.

Of course some of the students recognized him immediately. Several were quite consternated. Pheodor - I'm sure you'll remember him, he was the one who was forever in trouble with Sprout for sneaking plants into his room from her greenhouses - has never truly recovered from his Interrogation with Moastifer. He trembles at the slightest noise. I'm proud to say that Slytherin House is quite protective of him.

Before any of us, I sadly admit, had time to deal with him, this uninvited idiot pointed to the Slytherin table and began yelling that soon they would be exactly where they all belonged: in Azkaban where they would rot. Where the Dementors would treat them as they deserved.

We had our wands out, ready to stun him, when we discovered why dragon dogs are called dragon dogs.

On rereading this - I'm sorry if it sounds rambling, but I am still so livid - Mei-Ming has been very taken with the Slytherin table. She regularly joins them for meals, accepting tidbits, compliments and pats equally politely, as if they are her due. She was with them when Moastifer appeared.

When he began his cursing, we all saw her leap from the table. I remember thinking that she was going to get in the way of our stuns which wouldn't be a good thing for her babies. But as she leapt, she changed. Severus, did you know that when defending her young from perceived threat, a dragon dog actually transforms into a dragon? Not a large one, considering the size of dragons, but bigger than a man. And yes, quite capable of spitting fire.

We left Professor Sun to deal with her while we put out Moastifer with our spells. Poppy at first refused to deal with his burns but then her medical ethics rose to the forefront and she did. He's lost all his hair and has some serious burns on his hands and parts of his head which may prove to take longer to heal as Poppy only cast a temporary healing spell on them. It seems there are limits to even Poppy's medical ethics. The Aurors' Medical team will deal with those, I suppose.

I contacted Albus about this and his response was to demand that Professor Sun be sent on his way as he had not approved his being hired. I have had to remind him that, under a policy he fought for and established, Hogwarts is independent of the Ministry and that he is no longer Headmaster but Minister for Magic. He as Headmaster had not permitted the previous Minister to interfere with Hogwarts and I as its Headmistress fully intend to continue in that tradition.

Cranston, Head of the Aurors Department, offered an apology - such as it was - and explained that Moastifer has been acting erratically of late. He indicated that his actions would result in his being removed from the position of Section Chief. I fear probably more as a result of the howlers Cranston has been receiving from parents than from the act itself.

That is one good thing. Another is once everything was under control, Professor Sun asked to meet with me. I was worried he was going to hand in his resignation. Instead, he informed me that I have enough to do as Headmistress and that Slytherin needs its own full-time Head. That he was taking over that responsibility from me, effective immediately. I have agreed.

Is this what you had in mind when you sent him to us?

Poppy has checked Alexander and all the others over. Humphries is under orders to let her know if anyone requires attention of any kind. Again, I want to reassure you that Alexander is all right.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall.  
Headmistress, Hogwarts.'

Alexander's letter arrived a week later. Though more sedate than his last, it did not have the stiffness Severus had expected.

`Papa.

We have a new Head of House. I suppose the Headmistress has already written to you about that. She sent individual letters to all Slytherin parents and a general one to the parents of the other Houses. And Madam Pomfrey has had all of us in the Infirmary, to look us over. I think she's been worried about how some in the House might react to seeing Moustifer lit up like a candle.'

"Moustifer?" said Eirik. "I thought his name was Moastifer?"

"You father referred to him by that name," explained Severus.

Eirik rolled his eyes. "He would."

`Actually, it was really quite wicked. Guess Mei-Ming doesn't like Aurors anymore than we do. It took Professor Sun about an hour to convince her that Moustifer was no longer a threat to us. She shrank down very slowly. He finally had Pheodor, who seems to be one of her favourites, come and talk to her and pat her before she finally reverted to her usual size. Then he sent her with us back to our common room and told Humphries, the prefect, that he wanted us to remain there until he came to talk to us.

Mei-Ming would only go along wrapped around Pheo's neck and she grumbled all the way. He finally had to hold her on his lap for her to calm down.

It was nearly midnight when Professor Sun came. Most of the first and second years were asleep but he waited until everyone was awake to inform us that he was taking over as Head from now on. And that he fully intended to see to it that no one threatened us ever again.

Oh, and he assigned Pheo to Mei-Ming. He said that he wouldn't have time to take her out for her daily walks and that was now Pheo's responsibility. He also warned us all that as her time to deliver approached, she would be a little irritable and so if she growled, to leave her alone. Also that she liked to groom herself in dragon form at least once a day and so we shouldn't worry if we entered the common room to find a dragon. She won't get as large as she did in the Hall. Unfortunately it seems she'll only get that big when she's defensive. So, in dragon, she's only about the size of a large dog. And she grooms herself like a cat.

Hagrid follows Pheo around when he walks her. He asks all sorts of questions about her and Professor Sun has allowed Pheo to borrow a book about her care. Of course, he had to spell Pheo so that he could understand it. It's written in Chinese.

We're getting ready for exams. Professor Sun seems to think that we're writing our O.W.L.s or something. I have to write three whole feet on the practical uses for aconite.

Papa, can Rhodri come home with me at end of term?

His grandparents are going to visit a few Reserves and he finds that really boring. He can't practice Quidditch as flying worries the dragons and so he has to spend his time with the little kids. Or reading.

So if it's all right with you, could you write to his grandparents and invite him? He could share my room and though he eats a lot, that's because he's at least six inches taller than I am now. And he's used to werewolves so the Village wouldn't bother him.

And that way, we can do our summer assignments together and get them done right away, not at the last minute.

I hope Freya and Onkel Eirik are in good health.

Your loving son,  
Alexander.

P.S. Professor Sun says he's met you. Could you ask him if we could have one of Mei-Ming's pups when they're weaned?'

Freya shook her head as she patted Severus on the arm. "We were worried and he's more interested in a dragon dog. I forget that the young have different priorities."

"Will you write to Rhodri's family?" Eirik propped his feet up on the chair next to his and finished his tea.

Severus thought a moment. "What do you think? Think we can put up with two fourteen year olds for a while?"

Freya nodded. "The Village and Alexander's cousins might be a problem with anyone else but with Rhodri? I doubt it."

"He's the Beater, isn't he?" Eirik thought a moment. "We could get a couple of Quidditch teams going. Would be fun."

Severus quirked an eyebrow. "So you can teach him more of those moves you taught Alexander?"

Eirik's grin was totally unrepentant.

The boys arrived with trunks, broomsticks, gifts from Hogsmeade and Wales for everyone and the quiet and calm of the household disappeared with their arrival.

Alexander hugged Severus tightly for several moments, then looked him over with an eagle eye before nodding and moving on to Freya and his uncle.

"Brat!" Eirik grabbed him and gave him a rough hug.

Severus was stunned to see how much Rhodri had changed. He was easily six foot and, though still all arms and legs, he promised to fill out. Rather like Charlie Weasley had, thought Severus.

"Thank you for having me, Professor. I know my grandparents were relieved that they won't have to find ways of entertaining me. They'd much rather track dragon spoor and such things."

"Rhodri!" Alexander turned and nodded to Freya.

Rhodri blushed. "Sorry, Madam Hillswick."

Freya smiled and went over to hug him. "Not at all, Rhodri. I do understand how what is fascinating to one mind can be rather repulsive to another. And please, do call me Freya. There are far too many Madams Hillswick in the area."

Eirik was watching Rhodri, head cocked to one side as he stood behind Alexander, with his hands on the boy's shoulders. Already planning a drawing, thought Severus, recognizing the look.

Lunch saw the two boys match mouthful for mouthful, scarfing down food as though they hadn't been fed in days.

"When was breakfast?" asked Eirik, amazed to see all that food disappearing.

Alexander swallowed. "Early," he complained. "Seven this morning."

"Ah!" Severus nodded in commiseration. "Yes, I understand. A full half hour earlier than normal."

Both boys nodded very seriously. Eirik shook his head while Freya merely placed another platter of chicken in front of them.

The bed in Alexander's room had been replaced with bunk beds. While the boys were manoeuvering their trunks upstairs, Freya magicked the lengths so that Rhodri's feet wouldn't hang off the end of his.

"Perhaps you should unpack your books first," said Severus, with the most sincere expression he could summon, "and place them in the library. That way they will be there for you when you begin your summer assignments."

The boys stilled.

"Tomorrow would be a good time, don't you think?" added Severus.

Rhodri's look of horror was priceless as was Alexander's open-mouthed astonishment.

In the hallway, Severus noticed that Freya caught her lower lip under her teeth and finally had to bury her face in Eirik's shoulder to mute her laughter. Eirik glared at Severus until he too understood.

"Papa." Alexander and Rhodri communicated with a series of faces and grimaces.

"Yes, Alexander."

"Well, er...you see, we thought that maybe we'd have a few days off, you know, before we hit the books again."

"But, Alexander, if I remember well, you were complaining all through lunch at the amount of work professor Sun had assigned. And didn't you say that one of the reasons you wanted Rhodri to visit was so that you could get these assignments done right away and not at the last minute?"

Rhodri glared at Alexander as he scuffed his toe on the carpet.

Alexander was chewing his lip the way he did when working out a difficult problem.

He looked up and smiled at his father. "I agree with you, papa. But you know, our brains have been working so hard since Professor Sun took over, well, I think they need a bit of a rest. All that knowledge we've been ingesting, well, it needs time to settle in. You know. A bit of digesting so that we don't forget it."

Rhodri caught on very quickly. "It's like my Mam says, Professor. A good meal requires digestion. And not just Professor Sun has been feeding our brains, sir. I mean there's been Transfiguration, and Arithmancy."

"History and Ancient Runes," interjected Alexander.

Rhodri nodded, his face wrinkled in sincerity. "Charms and Astronomy."

"Don't forget Herbology," added Alexander. "And Defence!"

Nodding sympathetically, Eirik stepped between the boys. "All that intellectual stimulation, Severus. Not good for the body if there's no balance. Seems to me I remember you telling Harry Potter just that not so long ago. Weeks of sitting in dusty libraries, wearing out their eyes by flickering candlelight, writing in the chill of their rooms, burning the midnight oil..."

Severus managed to look quite taken by the image Eirik was drawing.

Especially when he was bracketed by two heads nodding vigorously.

"And what would you suggest as a means of balancing this uneven use of the body?"

Eirik smiled at the boys before offering, "Quidditch."

Two sets of eyes lit up, two sets of teeth came down on expressions of delight. Two sets of eyes turned onto Severus, waiting for his response.

Severus pretended to ponder the solution. "You know," he finally announced, "that may be a good idea. For a few days, until their psyches balance out once more."

"A very good idea indeed," agreed Freya once she had composed herself enough to say so without bursting into laughter.

Rhodri looked at Alexander. "We've missed something, haven't we?"

Eirik put his arms around the boys. "I'm sure you'll work it out. Meanwhile, brats, brooms in the back garden!"

And he was first out the door with his.

Alexander waited a couple of days to complain once more about their summer assignments to his father in the privacy of his lab. "I thought Professor Sun'd be good fun, you know, but he's really a slave-driver."

Severus looked up from the potion he was checking. "Really?" he drawled. Then he smiled. "He wants you to be able to do the work necessary next year and a year of Grog didn't do you much good."

Alexander shook his head. "That's not what you're supposed to say."

Severus leaned back against the worktable. Alexander had sounded rather mournful. "And what was I supposed to say?"

Alexander hopped off the table he was sitting on and came over to put his arms around his father. Looking particularly guileless, he offered, "That Professor Sun is over-reaching his authority and that you'll write him a letter telling him so."

Severus dropped his arms loosely over his son. He bent and kissed the boy on the forehead. He still only barely reached Severus's shoulders. Freya had assured the boy that Hillswicks hit their growth spurt late. "Good try, brat."

Alexander grinned. "That's what Onkel Eirik calls us." He shook his head. "Rhodri bet me you wouldn't cave in. He said that I would be fortunate if you didn't write Professor Sun complaining that he hadn't assigned enough work."

Severus laughed. "And what does he base that on?"

"Your reputation. Seems you were a hard taskmaster."

Severus cocked his head. "Was I?"

Alexander shrugged. "I don't remember you that way. I remember that you wanted us to learn." He propped his chin up on his father's chest, tilting his head back to examine Severus's face. "And that you always looked tired. You don't look tired anymore." His expression was too innocent: Severus braced himself. "Does this mean that you're getting enough...ah, sleep these days?"

Severus couldn't believe they were having this conversation! Was his son truly inquiring about his sex life? He glared. "Is this your way of asking how things are between your Onkel Eirik and myself?"

"And if it were? I do have a vested interest, you know. After all, papa," said with the utmost sincerity, "he did ask me for permission to court you."

Severus smoothed his son's hair back with his two hands, framing his son's face. "Yes, you're right, he did," he admitted. "All I can say is that things seem to be progressing." Severus shrugged. "I've never been courted before, so I have nothing to compare with."

"Do you like him?"

It crossed Severus's mind that this kind of conversation was probably not unusual between a father and son, but in the opposite direction.

"Yes. I do like him."

"In spite of the fact that he's more Northlander than Brekke?"

Severus smiled. "Whatever makes you say that?"

Alexander shrugged. "That's what the Coven says about him. They say he's the only one of all the Brekkes who doesn't have a political bone in his body. That he's a dreamer in a family of realists."

"Well," Severus frowned as he thought, "I might challenge their perception of him but, be that as it may, I like him as he is."

Alexander nodded. He gave his father a final hug. "I'll leave you to finish this potion or we'll never get to the Village today and I want Rhodri to meet some of the cousins."

Just as he reached the door, Severus called out, "Alexander, what did Eirik say when you asked him for an update?"

Alexander turned around, eyes wide open and an expression of totally fake astonishment on his face. "Why, papa, that would be telling, now, wouldn't it? Seems to me you should ask him yourself."

And the door closed quickly before Severus could do more than laugh.

The visit with the cousins was a little tense and stiff at first. It wasn't often that Outsiders came to the Village, and then sometimes with no good intent. Quidditch talk helped. But then Alexander casually mentioned the reason for Rhodri's visit and the word `dragon' worked magic. Especially with the girls who let it be known that they thought it took a lot of daring to work with dragons.

"Has Evan had `The Talk' with Rhodri, do you think?"

Freya smiled at Severus. "It might be worthwhile asking the next time you write to them."

Eirik organized a day of Quidditch, rounding up enough interested young people with their own broomsticks to form almost two complete teams.

"We need two more, for Keepers. I'll take Alexander's team and you, Severus, take Rhodri's. Wolves against Dragons."

Severus tried hard to protest that, apart from the occasional bit of travelling, he hadn't really used a broomstick in years. Besides, he'd never played Quidditch.

Alexander and Eirik grinned. "Then we'll win easily, won't we?"

They did. The first two games. Far too easily. By the third, Severus's sense of competition demanded vindication and the Wolves suddenly didn't find it so easy to score against him.

They were in the middle of a loud argument about a foul, with Eirik and Severus screaming rules and counter-rules, when a new player joined the fray.

"Foul. Dragon serves."

Eirik and Severus turned as one to deal with this interference.

"Who the... Harry?"

Harry Potter grinned at the two men. "No arguing with the referee. Get on with it."

The presence of the National Seeker spurred the young players to their best. This game was hard fought and Harry must have found being referee in this `fun' game almost as difficult as being Seeker in a competitive match. There were times he had to stand on his broom and demand the attention of the players to put an end to arguments.

The game eventually came to an end when some of the mothers indicated that they were not holding supper back any longer. The thought of food was too much for young bodies which had played hard all day.

"Bloody hell!"

Everyone turned to Eirik who was gaping at Harry. "If you're here that means Luc... She'd better not have gone into the studio... I'm not ready to show..." And he was off.

Alexander and Rhodri decided to see if they could beat him back to the house while Harry and Severus followed at a slightly more leisurely pace. They arrived at the house in time to hear Luc, who was dressed in a stunning pink robe with matching streaks in her white hair, reassure Eirik. "Now, Riky, of course I haven't looked. I know better. Besides," she smiled at Freya who was sitting on the patio bench next to her, "I doubt if I would have been allowed anywhere near even if I had tried."

Then she spied the rest of them standing there, brooms in hand. "Sevvie! You look positively delicious. That drenched look really becomes you." And she winked at Eirik.

"Sevvie?" Alexander and Rhodri exchanged astonishments and began snickering. Severus's broom gave theirs a sudden hard swat. The boys swallowed their giggles, but not their grins.

"Luc. As always, it's a pleasure to see you again."

"And who are these two? Oh, my. Sevvie," she purred, "this has got to be Alex." She put down her glass and got up to stand very close to the boy who was now suddenly the focus of all attention. "Oh, my. You are going to be a real heart-breaker, aren't you? Those eyes and your daddy's sexiness, what a combination."

Alexander wriggled as he went beet red.

"And you must be Roddy. Freya was telling me that you work with dragons. That and those shoulders, and those dimples...well, we women aren't going to have much of a chance, are we?"

Rhodri went even redder.

She moved on to Eirik who was now shaking his head at her. "Yes, it's time, Riky, dear. I need to see what you've been doing and while I do, Harry will take a shower, won't you, babe. You won't want to sit down to Freya's lovely dinner stinking like that."

Severus caught the boys smelling the underarms of their robes as Freya took charge of Harry. He shook his head, realizing that he wouldn't be getting into a shower anytime soon, so he followed Eirik and Luc but stayed in the doorway, leaning against the jamb. Near, but not in, in case he was needed. Luc stood to one side, morphing from charming visitor into shrewd agent as she waited for Eirik to display the canvases he was ready to show her.

There were four of them. Three were the flashes of colour that Severus was gradually becoming able to decipher.

These were different than those he had seen at the exhibition. The colours more intense, the patterns less random yet more appealing, to his mind at least. But then he wasn't the expert.

Eirik chewed on his lower lip as Luc stared first at one then at the others in turn. Finally she turned and faced not Eirik but Severus. "I told you you'd be good for him." Then she put Eirik out of his misery. "They're marvelous. Mature. There's a stability to them that's been missing in your work until now. And the emotion is deeper. That one," she pointed to the fourth done in tones of whites, greys and blacks, "radiates sex...desire...attraction, which is incredible considering the colours you've chosen. I know I've said it to you before, but you truly are a brilliant artist, Eirik Northlander."

Before Eirik had time to finish his sigh of relief, she added, "But four aren't enough. I've booked the gallery for a date in sixteen months and I want more. And where are the portraits? I told you we needed a couple of those."

Eirik went up to her and hugged her tightly. "Luc."

She hugged him back, then pulled away, her nose wrinkling. "You smell sweaty, Riky. I can take it from Harry, but not you, much as I love you. So have you any ideas yet for a portrait? Or are you too busy with Sevvie here?"

Eirik grinned at Severus. "Actually, though I think I can never be too busy with Sev...verus, I have sketched out something I think you may like."

He rummaged through a pile of sketches and pulled out a large sheet which he pinned up on an easel. Severus and Luc both moved in closer to look.

It was a drawing of Alexander and Rhodri, at the stone wall that separated the back garden from the patio. Rhodri was lounging back against it, ankles crossed, laughing at something. Alexander was sitting on the wall, hand on Rhodri's shoulder, grinning in the wicked way he had whenever he had caught his friend with a pun or a riddle. Their broomsticks were next to them, along with a Buldger and a Snitch. Alexander's robe was made up of the faces of wolves while Rhodri's was dragons.

"I thought of offering the finished sketch to the Ddus, but we'd keep the portrait for ourselves," Eirik said to Severus.

s

Dinner was food, wine - including some for the boys - Quidditch and Art. Luc monopolized Eirik, sprang to interject something in the conversation on Quidditch between Harry and the boys, then back to Eirik. She discussed injuries particular to her world with Freya and, out of the blue, questioned Severus as to what he thought about that controversy coming out of Latin America about the use of extremely hot peppers in place of rupture wort.

It made Severus dizzy listening to her.

After the lengthy meal was over, the boys went to help Freya turn the library into a sleeping chamber for their visitors while Luc and Eirik disappeared into his studio. Severus moved outside to sit in the darkened garden, enjoying the quiet and calm after the frenzy. He was a little surprised when Harry came to stand by the bench.

"May I?"

Severus made room. "Certainly."

Harry stretched out his legs and sighed. He sounded contented, thought Severus.

"Are you enjoying your position of First Seeker?"

There was enough light coming from the house for Severus to see Harry's grin. "Yes, I am. Especially since my ability seems to have taken them by surprise."

"Them?"

"The Media. My coaches. Even some of my fans."

Severus shook his head. "Then they never truly knew you."

Harry was quiet then he wriggled a little.

"Yes?" And Severus waited while Harry decided whether to tell him what was on his mind.

"Sirius was surprised as well."

"Ah."

"Unlike you, he seems to think that I'm wasting my time with Quidditch. That I have an obligation to my world to be something more."

Severus said nothing.

"Actually, he said that I owed it to my parents to make them proud of me and chasing a Snitch would have disappointed them."

Severus angled himself so that he could see Harry's face. "That's total crap."

Harry started.

"I may not have known them well, but I did know Lily and James. James loved the game and played it well, with great enthusiasm. Lily lost her voice many a match cheering him on. Your parents wouldn't have given a bloody damn what you do, Harry, as long as you're happy doing it. If you ask me, Black is worried for his job. It is not false pride on your part to know should you ever indicate to Minerva McGonagall you wanted to teach Flying or coach the Schools League team, that Black would be relegated to assistant trainer in a blink of her eye. She likes and admires you, Harry."

There was a long silence from Harry: Severus was certain that he had overstepped the bounds of their still so new friendship.

"Thank you, Severus. I was wondering why Sirius seemed to be so...negative. I hadn't thought... And thank you for telling me about my parents."

Severus shrugged, "It's only the truth, Harry. If they loved you as much as everyone tells you they did, it's what they would want. I know it's what I want for Alexander."

"Would you also want a Luc in his life?"

Severus cocked his head. "That depends. Is she good for you?"

Harry thought, a sappyish smile on his face. "Yes, I think so." He lost the smile. "Sirius doesn't like her."

"And does she like him?"

Harry found his smile again. "No. No, she doesn't."

"I assume that she was her usual blunt self about that." Severus could well imagine Luc as she indicated her opinion on something that didn't please her. He coughed to cover up his laughter at Luc at her most harpy. He needn't have bothered: Harry's laughter was heartfelt.

"I'm not naive, Severus," he said when his laughter had waned. "I know that she's fourteen years older than I am. That she enjoys the company of younger men. That she remains friends with a great many of her affections - what she calls her former...admirers. She's not like anyone else I've ever known. And I like her. I'm going to enjoy this while it lasts and when it's over, I'm going to appreciate the fact that she was in my life. In spite of what others tell me."

Severus leaned back. "Are your friends against her? I would have expected more of Granger and Weasley."

Harry shrugged. "I know that we lived in each other's pockets while at school - it was hard not to - but since graduation...well, you know how it is. Hermione is reassuring her parents by attending a Muggle university. She's reading Astronomy and Mathematics. Professor Vector suggested those would help her best with Arithmancy later on. And Ron's working in his father's department: Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. Though his real interest is eventually making Grand Master in Wizard Chess. We write, now and then, but we really don't see each other much any more." He signed. "Our lives don't cross all that often."

Severus nodded sympathetically, then ventured into tricky territory. "Might Dumbledore be one of those disapproving others?"

This time the silence was long enough to worry Severus. "Sorry, Harry. None of my business."

Harry slouched onto his tailbone, shoved his hands into his pockets. "It took me a long time to figure it out. I was diving for a Snitch when it dawned on me, that all along all I'd been was the goat."

Severus was worried by the bitterness in Harry's voice. "Goat?"

"Yes, you know. The one they stake out to draw in the tiger. Or, in this case, Voldemort. The way I see it, Dumbledore knew that Voldemort hadn't died when he'd killed my parents. Only disappeared to return another day. That he could be drawn out - before he was truly ready to reclaim his position as," Harry mocked, "the Supreme Dark Lord. That he had to be if the Light was going to win. And the only way of doing it was to offer him the one and only person whom he hadn't been able to destroy. Who had somehow managed to...well, not destroy him, but to deal a hash blow to his plans for domination. Me. And then Voldemort's ego would take care of the rest."

Severus thought on that.

"Did you know that I was Dumbledore's goat?"

Severus shook his head. "No. Dumbledore never discussed his plans with me."

"But you guessed?"

Severus tilted his head back so that he could see the growing moon. "I didn't exactly guess. More of a sense of discomfort. Dumbledore was very mindful of his students. An accident and the reputation of Hogwarts could be ruined. He'd seen what had happened when Moaning Myrtle had died. He was very careful as Headmaster that there should be no repeats. We both know what happened when Sirius nearly got me killed. Instant cover-up. But then you arrived at the school and suddenly there you were, in the midst of situations...that made me uneasy. You were permitted to take what I thought were unreasonable risks. Even encouraged to. And your successes were the talk of Hogwarts, and thereby out of it. No attempt was made to keep anything under wraps."

Harry's voice was merely curious. "Did you ever confront him about it?"

Severus grimaced. "I was told that I was imagining things." He heard Harry's bitterness reflected in his own voice. "That, as I well knew, young men could act rashly at times."

Severus signed, consciously pushing away the bitterness. "All I could do was keep an eye on you, step in if I could, and hope that it was enough to allow you to live." He turned to the man at his side. "I have to admit, Harry, there were times I thought neither of us would survive."

Harry nodded. "There were times I did wonder if either of us would." He turned to face Severus. "You make a good friend, Severus Snape."

Severus was startled, but then he felt a smile grow on his face, to match the warmth growing in him. "You make a good friend, too, Harry Potter."

The silence that descended in the garden as the two men watched the stars was a comfortable one.

When it happened, it was so unexpected that no one truly understood.

One day, about two weeks after Luc and Harry's visit, Rhodri and Alexander disappeared.

They were on their way to the Village, with a list of items...and never got there.

At first, no one worried. The boys often encountered cousins and either would be caught up in a quick game of Quidditch, or would be flirting with some of the female members of the Clan.

By supper, Freya was worried. Not seriously, but enough to go to Severus's lab and mention that the boys hadn't returned from the Village. He left the potions in Bera's care and went off to find the boys.

He couldn't. No one in the Village remembered seeing either of them that day. Elder Hillswick called up several people and they began tracking back the route to the house. Even by the light of the late summer sun, they weren't able to find any trace of them.

Eirik joined them. Elder Hillswick sent out a call for other Villagers.

They widened the search area. Severus was torn between a sudden fear he refused to contemplate and the thought of what he would do to them if it turned out the boys were playing a prank. He could only hope they weren't injured.

By nightfall, late as it was, there was no sign of the boys.

Freya shook her head. "If it was a prank, they'd have come out and confessed by now."

Severus said nothing. Inwardly, his fortifications were drawing up. Mentally, he prepared himself for the very worst of news. Already, he blamed himself.

They all joined the others from the Village, young, adult, male, female, who, on broomsticks and on foot, went searching. Orm and Ketil remained at the house, with instructions to keep the boys there should they show up and to send a message into the Village.

The searchers had regrouped in the Village, in the early dawn, to plan strategy when a bird - a seagull - hovered over Severus's head and dropped a rolled piece of parchment, tied with a black ribbon.

As it flew away, before anyone had the time to cast a Tracer Spell on it, the bird simply exploded.

Those around watched in silence as Severus unrolled the parchment and read its message.

He closed his eyes and knew that no matter how prepared he had been, he was nowhere ready to deal with the reality. He opened his eyes and saw all the worried faces watching him. He had to clear his throat to read.

`I have them.'

"It's not signed," he added, but in his heart he knew.

Freya took the message from Severus's numb fingers and quickly spelled over it. The letters `M O A S' were all that were faintly revealed by the Recognition Charm. "It was written several hours ago," she explained. "That's all it will show us."

"Moastifer." And Severus's heart stilled.

Elder Hillswick swore.

Freya's face was fierce. "We can ask the Aurors where they think Moastifer would hold them, but I doubt that they'll do anything to help us. But Oddvar will."

Within minutes, a hawk was making its way to the Headquarters of the IFOW in Oslo, without any participation on Severus's part. It was as though his body was as frozen as his heart.

He finally was aware that Freya was speaking to him, must have been doing so for some time as she was watching him with worried eyes. "I think we should go back to the house, you and I, Severus. The next bird will be spelled to find you as this one was. It can find you at the house as easily as here."

"Full moon in two nights," muttered Elder Hillswick.

"I have to write to the Ddus." Severus tried to rouse himself, and did a fair interpretation of it, though he saw all his actions from a blurry distance.

"Yes, dear. Everything you need is at home." Freya nodded to Eirik who took Severus in his arms - Why couldn't he feel them? - and apparated them back to the house.

Freya sat next to him as he wrote to the Ddus. She'd offered to do it for him, but he'd only shaken his head. It took him several attempts before he managed:

"Evan, Rhiannon.

This is no way of breaking this news gently. Rhodri, along with Alexander, has been taken, kidnapped. We know not how or where, only when. Some time yesterday.

We thought at first the boys might be playing prank on us, but this hope was eliminated when I received a message this morning at sunrise. We have no way of tracing it back as the seagull who delivered it exploded. Freya spelled a Recognition Charm but enough letters appeared for us to conclude who is behind this: Moastifer.

We have contacted Oddvar Brekke, who most certainly has more pull with the Ministry of Magic and its Department of Aurors than any of us has. We, the Village and ourselves, are continuing to search for any clue that may help us find them.

I have no idea how long it will take for this message to reach you, but I shall send information on as soon as we have it.

Evan, Rhiannon, please accept my apologies. You left him with us thinking he'd be safe. And he wasn't. I accept all blame.

Sincerely,

Severus Snape.'

It was only by chance that they found out how the boys had been taken.

A small boy of little more than four had wandered away from his mother in a snit of independence and had been drowsing under a tree. He'd awakened when he'd heard a loud "Oof!"

"Like when Michael hits Rafe in the stomach," he explained to Elder Hillswick who had been asked to call in at the boy's house. "Then some words that maman won't let me say. So I look up and see two people falling but they don't crash."

"Why don't they crash?" asked Elder Hillswick patiently.

"You'll think I'm silly."

"No, lad, I won't. What did you see?"

"A carpet."

"A carpet? Ah, a flying carpet."

"See, it's silly." The boy wriggled all embarrassed in his mother's arms.

"No. It's anything but silly, lad. Was there anyone on the carpet?"

The boy smiled. "Yes. But he was wearing a hood and I couldn't tell if it was a witch or a wizard. And he hit the people with a bright light so that they fell very slowly to the carpet. He even waited for their broomsticks to land. Then the carpet went high and I didn't see it anymore. Even when I came out from the tree to see."

Finnbogi was the first to arrive with a small but expert team of investigators.

"The President will join us as soon as he can," he assured everyone.

Eirik snarled, "Too busy courting Wife Number Nine, is he?"

Finnbogi simply stared at Eirik until he signed, rubbed his face with his hands. "Sorry. It's just...we need him here."

"Yes, he is aware of that," said Finnbogi. "But right now he is in the final stages of mediating a dispute between the Giants and the Russian Ministry of Magic. And even you know what they're like. If there's a break, all his work will have been for nothing. He'll have to start all over again and they'll find other things to argue about. He'll be here as soon as he can be. Where's Professor Snape?"

Freya looked up from rubbing Eirik's shoulders. "Finnbogi, you will have to excuse us. We're all tired and frustrated. And we all know that things are a long way from getting better."

Finnbogi clasped one of her hands in both of his, offering support.

She managed a shadow of a smile. "As for Severus, he's sleeping. Not voluntarily. I had to slip him a sleeping draft in his tea. But he hasn't had any since before the boys were taken."

Finnbogi nodded his approval. "If it truly is Moastifer, it is Snape he will want to deal with. The professor will need all his resources when the man tires of his game.

"The President has already contacted the Minster for Magic and the Head of the Department of Aurors. All that Cranston could tell him is that Moastifer is on medical leave. They have no idea where he could be."

Elder Hillswick, who had already reported his findings, muttered, "He can't be that far away! He's on a bloody carpet! Flying one of those over water isn't something that just anyone can do. The air currents and humidity affect a carpet much more than they do a broom. The Village will keep on looking. You never know: we might be able to find something."

Luc was the next one to arrive, just after sunset. But not a Luc Eirik recognized. He'd sent her a note to let her know what was going on, and she'd come not as his agent, but as a witch ready to hunt.

She was all in black, including her hair which hung in ringlets to her shoulders. Her robe resembled a fitted coat more than any witch's robe. The top was tight but the skirt flared from waist to ankle. Black lace decorated the top and draped partially over the skirt. Her boots were flat, as though she knew she would need to be surefooted.

He had never before seen her so somberly dressed, nor her face so set.

She hugged him tightly. "Where's Severus?"

Eirik leaned into her. He always forgot how strong she was for such a slight woman. "In the library. He's just sitting there, waiting."

Luc moved from Eirik to Freya. She held the older woman a long time. "Harry has to play tonight and then he'll join us. He says that he expects to beat his personal best time."

Harry arrived just after midnight. He had barely greeted everyone when Severus suddenly walked out into the garden. He didn't seem to see or hear anyone around him. He was looking into the sky when the second seagull appeared, once more carrying in its beak a rolled piece of parchment, tied with a black ribbon. As the roll dropped down towards Severus's outstretched hand, the bird exploded, covering him with feathers and bloody visceral matter.

Eirik immediately spelled him clean but he doubted that Severus had even noticed.

They all held their breaths as Severus read the message. He was suddenly even paler than he had been. "It says, `How badly do you want your misbegotten son? We'll find out, won't we?' That's all."

Finnbogi took the note out of his hand and muttered over it. Again the letters MOAS were all that appeared. Freya made a sound much like a swallowed whimper. Luc put her arms about her. Eirik accompanied his devastated lover into the house, his arms out, ready to catch Severus if he collapsed.

Harry went to join the Village in its search. Luc took Freya into the studio and shut the door behind them. When they came out a half hour later, both were red-eyed, but Freya was calmer. Bera convinced Freya to go upstairs with her and lie down.

Luc waited until the women had left the kitchen to corner Finnbogi. "When we find that son of a bitch, if you don't kill him, I will."

Finnbogi did not doubt her sincerity and right then he also didn't doubt her ability to do so.

"He must be returned to the Aurors but..." he held up a hand to stop her before she began, "a body will satisfy that requirement, in my estimation."

The President arrived in late morning. Some of his security people went to the Village for an update from Elder Hillswick. Others deployed around the house, keeping an eye on the sky for the arrival of another bird.

Oddvar held Freya tightly as she cried in his arms. He murmured quietly until she grew calmer then handed her his handkerchief and kissed her cheek. "I need to see Severus."

In the library, he found Severus sitting in his favourite chair, staring blindly at the Slytherin scarf he clenched in his hands.

Eirik was sitting at the far end of the couch, sketch pad in hand, yet Oddvar noticed that there was nothing drawn on it. His son looked up and Oddvar saw relief as well as fear in the eyes his son had inherited from a werewolf ancestor. He said nothing, only opened his arms, and Eirik walked into his embrace.

He held his son tightly. "Have you eaten lately?"

The pale head shook `no' against his neck.

"And I suppose Severus hasn't either."

Oddvar pulled back to look into his son's face. "Go eat. Let me talk with Severus and when I signal, bring him something to eat. Tell Ketil something light but nourishing. Go now."

Eirik took a last look at Severus before he obeyed. His frustration at not being able to get through to his withdrawn lover was all too well written on his face. Oddvar pulled out his best reassuring smile and Eirik went, closing the door behind him.

Oddvar said nothing at first. He looked around the room and found a chair he could pull up close to Severus.

"Alexander's scarf?"

Severus didn't move though his hands gripped more tightly.

Oddvar pulled out his sharpest tone, the one he used to cut through loud squabbles at the negotiation table. "Severus!"

Severus raised his head.

"How did you know to go out for the second message?" When he got no response, Oddvar snarled, "This is not helping Alexander and Rhodri. How are you going to be able to make a decision if the next message requires it?"

Severus opened his eyes and Oddvar suddenly noticed that for someone who had supposedly been rendered immobile by events, those eyes were very much aware. The man lowered his head and returned to staring at the scarf in his hand.

"The tree opposite the window at the near end of the garden." Very softly said. Barely audible.

Oddvar caught himself from turning around to look. "Yes?"

"There are gulls in it, white-headed, black-backed, similar to the ones delivering. In the dark, one of them left it to come up to the window and look in. That's what made me go out. This morning, there were seven that I could see. Now there are four."

Oddvar leaned forward as though he were trying to get through to the man. "They're reporting back to Moastifer."

"I think so."

"That you're so overwhelmed that you're positively useless."

"Not far from the truth."

"Have you told anyone here...of course you haven't. They would tell Finnbogi and, subtle though he is, he might set things off." He thought a moment. "Yes, all right. I'll speak to my Head of Security. The Villagers are scattered throughout the area and if they should happen to see a gull flying away from here... The direction alone would be of great help."

Oddvar patted Severus's arm. "I think you should allow yourself to be fed by Eirik." He cut off Severus's refusal. "He needs to do something for you and it would ease Freya. Besides, we have no idea just what the next hours will bring. You'll need all your strength."

Oddvar had a few words with Ketil who prepared a rich broth. Eirik, not certain that Severus would co-operate, brought the bowl in and was relieved when Severus accepted each spoonful.

The third seagull arrived just before five. Unlike the others, once it had delivered its message, it flew to join the now lone gull in the garden tree.

The message contained convoluted directions which had Elder Hillswick, who happened to be there reporting, shaking his head. "I can only guess but that seems to lead to Ramna Stacks. There are only a few Muggles living there, none of us. It's a very small island, more rock than anything else. I think they run a few sheep on it."

"There's a time limit. I have to be there by six. And I have to follow the route he's indicated."

Elder Hillswick shook his head. "That'll be cutting it close."

Severus was on his way to his broomstick when he noticed Eirik alongside him. "No. He says alone." And with that, Severus pushed off the ground and took to the air, instructions in hand.

Oddvar managed to grab his son before he could follow. "Wait!"

"Wait? Why the bloody hell should I wait? He's going off into Odin knows what and you want me to WAIT?"

Oddvar winced at his son's scream of rage. He signalled his men and Security surrounded them. "Wait!"

"For what? For Severus and the boys to die?"

"No, for those gulls to leave, as they are."

Oddvar and his Head of Security watched as the two birds flew off in Severus's direction. Then the Head turned to Elder Hillswick. "Ramna Stacks. Is there a way we can approach it from a direction different from the one Professor Snape will be using?"

Five minutes later, with Elder Hillswick and three other elders at his side, the Head took off with two of his men. Luc went with them, flying with Harry, Eirik and Finnbogi.

Oddvar hadn't been allowed to join them, after a sharp discussion with his Head. He agreed to remain at the house and wait with Freya.

"He hasn't had any of his Wolfsbane," said Bera to Oddvar and Freya. "Alexander, that is. In spite of everything, I managed to get all the others to drink theirs, but Alexander hasn't had any this month. And moonrise today is just after 6:30."


	7. Seven by Josan

Part Seven

Severus flew in from the west, over the open sea.

He tried to keep any thoughts other than the route he needed to follow out of his mind otherwise he thought he might give Moastifer exactly what he wanted: a man driven insane with worry.

He knew he was to blame for the situation. If only he'd accepted that a normal life was not to be his. He should have sent Alexander back with Inga that day, back to Freya and a safe existence away from the man who was cursed. Now all he could do was whatever it took to get his son and his friend back where they belonged, alive and hopefully well.

With the first letter, he had deliberately entered the mind-set that he had needed whenever Voldemort had summoned him. The body he inhabited was not his. Not truly. It was only a shell he used to enable him to enter Voldemort's presence, gather the information Dumbledore so badly needed, then hope that the shell was not too badly battered for him to make it back to the security of his dungeon chambers.

He knew that Eirik had been upset by his behaviour, but he'd needed to focus on himself, on mentally preparing for whatever was ahead. He'd never known what mood he'd find Voldemort in and whether he would have enough skin on his back to actually make it back out again. It was no different now. And, besides, he had no experience in dealing with someone else's pain and fear in such times.

He had taken the chance of showing that protected self to Oddvar Brekke. He had needed to trust someone who had experience in stepping back and viewing a situation objectively. Both of them knew what it was like dealing with personalities who could react illogically without warning.

Now, he had to prepare himself to face Moastifer, and hopefully rescue Alexander and Rhodri.

He wouldn't allow himself to wonder as to their fate in Moastifer's hands. What was, was, and he - and they - would deal with it. After the boys were found.

The instructions indicated that he was to land on the small plateau no closer than 25 feet from a shepherd's hut that was nestled back and one side against an outcropping of rock riddled with crevices. The windowless hut seemed deserted, but then appearances were deceiving.

As he approached, he ran into an invisible barrier. He propped his broomstick against a shoulder and cautiously felt with his hands until he realized that Moastifer had set up a protective ward around the hut.

He stooped, placing his broomstick on the ground, and then, hands outstretched to show he was carrying nothing, he stood and waited.

Writing began appearing in the air in front of him.

`No magic can come through this point. Remove all your clothing.'

Severus quickly assessed the situation though he knew full well that he had no alternative. His hands went to the clasp on his robe and he slowly, carefully, took it off, folded it and placed it on the ground. One by one, the rest of his garments followed. With clear gestures, he lay his wand down on top of the small pile.

Naked, hands outstretched again, he waited in the silence.

The door of the hut opened and a hooded figure stepped into its shadows. A wand was waved and part of the ward in front of him rippled. Severus took a deep breath and stepped through, wincing at the sting as the ward protested his passing. As he approached, the hooded figure disappeared back into the hut but the door remained opened, opened until he stepped over the threshold when it closed sharply behind him.

The room, for that was all it was, was dark though Severus thought he could make out two lighter areas against the back wall.

"I have to admit that you have truly surprised me, Snape."

The voice came from behind him. As Severus went to turn, it snarled, "No, don't. Remain as you are."

Severus kept his breathing calm only through a force of will-power. He wanted to attack the man behind him. He'd recognized Moastifer's voice and kept his own lightly curious. "And how is it that I have surprised you?"

"A werewolf. You're putting your life into my hands for a bloody werewolf," he mocked. "For something not worth the air it breathes."

"I shall have to disagree with you, Moastifer."

The mocking slipped into a sneer. "I'm certain you must. You bedded a werewolf bitch, mixed your pure blood with hers to produce this freak of nature."

Severus noticed movement along the back wall and tried to discern its source. He kept his voice as calm as possible. "My son is not a freak."

"They're all freaks," Moastifer spat out. "Creatures not human. Fit only for hunting. Do you know that my family used to hunt them for sport? Not politically acceptable any more even if that's all they're really good for. Not a reason for keeping them alive. You allow them into decent company," his voice rose, "and they transmit their foulness to wizards and witches who spend the rest of their lives in hell. I'm certain that your friend, Remus Lupin, would agree."

Severus shivered at the shrieking tones which held more than a tinge of insanity. So there was more to this than Moastifer's need to revenge his brother's death.

"Where is my son?"

"Your son? Oh, yes, the reason you've walked into my little trap."

Moastifer stepped out to one side and, with a wave of his wand,"Sphaera Luxae!" a small sphere of light appeared, casting all shadows aside.

Severus blinked as his eyes grew accustomed to the sudden light. Then he sighed in relief. In the far corner, naked but seemingly unharmed, were the two boys.

Rhodri was bound and gagged, propped up against the side wall while, about five feet away, Alexander knelt, the thick collar around his throat chained to the wall behind him, keeping him away from Rhodri. He was gagged but not bound. Both boys eyed him with teary relief.

Severus took a step towards his son only to be brought up short by Moastifer's pointing his wand at him. "I didn't say that you could move, Snape."

Severus stilled though he turned to face the hooded man. "Let them go. You have me. That's what you've wanted all along. You don't need them anymore."

Moastifer pulled back his hood with his free hand. In the light, the reddened skin on his face, the hairlessness of his head - even his eyebrows were gone - made Severus wince. From the way the burns covered his face, it was obvious that Moastifer must have thrown up his hands to protect his eyes as they and his nose were not burned.

"Oh," said Moastifer, in a sweet tone, "but I do." Another wave of his wand and the gag fell off Alexander.

"Papa!"

Severus noted his son's voice was hoarse as though it hadn't been used for some time. He clenched his fists but he kept his own voice as calm as possible. "Alexander. It'll be all right."

"No!" Alexander was trying to get to his feet. The chain was not long enough to allow that. It was obvious that he was trying hard to hold back his fear. "Not if you stay here. He wants to kill you."

"And with good reason." Moastifer once more sounded very calm and sane, but Severus could see his eyes and he knew that was an illusion. "I have explained to the ... the..."

"Boy."

Moastifer made a negligent gesture with his hand as though the word was of no importance, "Whatever. I have explained all about your career as a Death Eater. As the maker of death potions for He-Who-Must-Not-BeNamed. About how you experimented on Muggles, unimportant though they are." His voice hardened suddenly. "How you betrayed your own kind and used those same potions on fellow wizards. How you are responsible for the slow and agonizing death of my brother."

"Not true!" Alex screamed. "Those stories aren't true!"

"Yes, they are," snarled Moastifer. "Ask him!" he spat. "Ask him to swear on your head that what I told you were lies! Do it! Do it!"

Rhodri make a small choking sound from behind his gag and shook his head as though trying to get Severus to remain silent.

Pain slashed through Severus. Was this when his son would learn to hate him? But Moastifer's unreasoning rage meant that he had to give him what he wanted, if only to calm him down. And besides, Alexander needed to know the truth.

"Alexander. I don't know what he's told you, but this is true. I was a Death Eater. You know that. I did work for Voldemort. You know that, too."

"To help us win!" Alexander yelled at Moastifer, who ignored him, watching Severus with a delighted smirk on his face.

"Yes. But not immediately. Alexander, I did develop potions that were used to kill. I knew that they were being used on Muggles. Like Moastifer here, I too once believed that Muggles were unimportant. On all that he is quite correct."

Alexander's disappointed face wounded Severus, but he kept on. Maybe if Moastifer had his pound of flesh, he would be happy with that and allow the boys to go. He wouldn't care how Alexander felt about him as long as he was alive to do so.

Rhodri's eyes were open wide, shifting from Alexander to Severus and back to Moastifer. Severus wondered what horror stories the Auror had told the boys while waiting for his arrival. Not that he would have needed to exaggerate a great deal: the reality was horrible enough.

"I will not lie to you, Alexander. But I will say that I didn't know that Voldemort was using my creations on wizards and witches, and that once I found out, I was revolted. Then I finally understood that using them on Muggles was not much better. Even animals should be allowed to die a natural death, not have death forced upon them in the form of an experiment."

"Oh, spare me!" Moastifer scoffed, rolling his eyes. "A natural death! The only way of ridding our world of inferior Mudbloods is to wipe out the Muggles. He-Who ...

"Voldemort," interjected Severus, having seen that the Auror disliked hearing him use the Dark Lord's name. He wanted to direct the man's rage away from Alexander and onto him.

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," snarled Moastifer, "had the right idea on that subject. Mingling our blood with Muggles is as profane as mixing it with werewolf blood. If wizards are to hold their rightful place in this world, vermin such as Mudbloods and Werewolves must be eliminated. Even if they do have their uses." And he rubbed his rocking groin obscenely with his free hand.

"Let the boys go. I won't fight you. You can have whatever revenge you wish to serve on me."

Moastifer snickered. "You can't fight me. You have nothing to defend yourself with. Nothing," his voice warned Severus, "to defend yourself against the son who will kill you."

Rhodri's muffled gasp was audible in the sudden silence.

Alexander was stunned. "No. No." His face and voice revealed his shock at the thought. "No, I won't. I won't kill my father. You can't make me," he snarled.

Moastifer's grin raised the hair on Severus's arms. "You won't have much choice. In the next few minutes, you will change into your true self. Into a werewolf. And your dear papa will be nothing more to you than a hated human, a human you will destroy." He turned from the horrified boy to the man. "The rising of the full moon was once used against me to your benefit, Snape. Now it will serve me."

"NO!" Alexander screamed in anguish. "PAPA!" He began tugging at the chain, trying to get it to release from the wall. "I won't!"

"I so love being able to contradict you, but yes, you will." Moastifer laughed. "You haven't had your Wolfsbane, now have you? Not going to retain any of your so-called humanity. All you'll know is that there are some humans in here with you and that you have to destroy them."

Alexander began sobbing, "Papa..." and Severus knew that nothing he had endured under Voldemort's hands had ever hurt him this much. He found the love in his heart to smile at his son, to speak soothingly to him.

"It's all right, Alexander."

"Papa!"

"Alexander, listen to me. We don't have much time. I love you. No matter what, I will always love you."

Moastifer made a gagging noise but Severus ignored him for his son. "You have brought me such pleasure and hope. No matter what you do to me, it's not important. And if you feel the need for it, you have my forgiveness. And my love. You will always have my love."

He tried one more time to get through to the man watching them with evil delight. "Moastifer, let Rhodri go. You have no need of him."

"Ah, but I do. You see, he's part of our...oops! Part of my plan. I intend to make it known that the werewolf - a student," he mocked disapprovingly, "at Hogwarts, of all places - has killed his father and his best friend. People will be outraged. As so many were," he growled, "when we were not able to incarcerate all those associated with the Dark Forces.

"They will demand retribution. They will rise up. The Ministry will have no other recourse. The school will have to cleansed of all vermin. Mudbloods will be cast aside. Werewolves will be hunted down in response to this profane act. And we will finally be able to return the beasts which survive - should any do - to the dark caves where they belong. Not," he spat, saliva dripping from his lips, splattering the air about his mouth, "in villages, siding with the enemy. Nor in high office. Oddvar Brekke will remember my name. It'll be on his lips when he too dies."

A shout of pain got all their attentions. The Change had begun.

Severus stood watching, silently saying goodbye to his son. A sound from Rhodri caught his attention. The boy's eyes were terrified. This too was his fault. Severus wanted to say something to comfort the boy but couldn't think of anything.

The wolf lay panting on the ground. Severus absently noted that the wolf had grown since the first time he had witnessed his Change. Slowly, he staggered to his feet, shaking his head as though trying to understand where he was. He sniffed and stiffened, looking around the room, spying the humans. His lips curled back, revealing long sharp wolf teeth. A rough sound began in the back of his throat and made its way out in an even rougher growl. As the growl grew louder, drool began gathering at the corners of his mouth.

Moastifer gave a sigh of pleasure. "Yes. Yes, indeed."

The wolf heard him and began straining at the chain, finally rising up on hind legs in his attempt to get to the humans.

Moastifer grinned and pointed with his wand. "I sense it's not quite ready. Needs to be riled up a little more. Crucio!"

Severus screamed "NO!" as the wolf dropped to the ground, writhing in pain. "No."

In his anger, he went for Moastifer who, with a grin, was ready for him. "Crucio!" And Severus dropped to the ground, screaming as the pain filled his body.

Then, as the wolf seemed to be recovering, Moastifer hit him with yet another "Crucio!"

As Severus tried to stand up, his body trembling from the attack, Moastifer hit him with Crucio again.

When the wolf finally found his feet, he was beyond rage. Snarling and snapping, teeth bared, drooling, eyes reddened from pain, he flew at the man who was struggling to his hands and knees in front of him. The chain prevented him from attaining his goal.

Laughing madly, Moastifer hit Severus with another Crucio then, while the man was on the ground gasping through the aftermath, the Auror slowly began to levitate. With another burst of insane laughter and a wave of his wand, he released the collar and the wolf sprang.

But not at Severus. Instead, the wolf turned sharply and leapt, grabbing Moastifer's leg as he rose.

Moastifer screamed, kicking out with his free foot, but the wolf hung on, and his weight began dragging the Auror down.

Moastifer shouted "Crucio!" but all the pain did was make the wolf bite tighter, deeper. As the pain subsided, the wolf began shaking his head, as though trying to separate the leg from the rest of the body, mangling the leg further. Screaming with pain and rage, Moastifer tried the Crucio again, but his aim was off. "Not me!" he kept on screaming. "Him! You have to kill him!" But the wolf refused to let go.

Severus managed to get to his feet. Fighting the residual pain, panting heavily, he grabbed Rhodri by his bound arms and dragged him across the floor of the hut to the door, all the time keeping an eye on the wolf. Opening it, he shoved Rhodri out. "Roll! Find cover. In the rocks." And he slammed the door shut, using his weight to keep it closed. The wolf would have to deal with him before it would be able to get out. And the door opened inwards. Together those should buy Rhodri enough time to roll into one of the larger crevices in the rock and find shelter, should Alexander manage to get out.

In his pain and insanity, in his desire to have the son kill the father, Moastifer seemed to have forgotten all spells. Now on the ground, he was hitting the wolf with his wand, kicking with his free foot, all the while screaming. He hit too hard with his wand and it went flying out of his hand. Severus dove for it, hoping he would be able to use it.

As he picked it up, ready to cast a stun spell on the wolf, the door of the hut crashed open, and four of the largest werewolves Severus had ever seen charged in. They quickly encircled the wolf and the man screaming. Though several of them butted Alexander with their heads, trying to get him to release his prisoner, he wouldn't.

Severus staggered to his feet. The smell of fear and blood was overwhelming in the hut. He knew that for his own safety, he had to get out. The Wolfsbane Potion had its effects but it had never been tested under such conditions. Bloodlust was not something he had been able to replicate in his lab. He had made his way to the open door as the tone of the other wolves' howls changed and Moastifer's screams rose in pitch and terror.

Eirik caught him as he stumbled out of the hut. When they stopped and he dropped to the ground, he saw that Rhodri was off to the other side, unbound, in Finnbogi's arms. He blinked, not certain he was seeing correctly. Luc, Harry and three others had their wands pointed at the door.

"If a wolf comes out, stun him," ordered a wizard who seemed to be in charge. "Kill if it's a man."

The Head of Security came out of the hut. In the yard where they had landed, four long shapes lay unconscious. With a quick once-over, the wizard assured himself the werewolves were still all stunned. Over to one side, Snape was sitting, his wolf-son's head on his lap, crooning lowly while stroking the boy's fur. His muzzle was matted with blood, as were those of the other wolves.

"Not much recognizable," he indicated the hut with his head.

Finnbogi shrugged. "Couldn't be helped, I suppose."

"Let's hope the Brits see it that way."

Eirik was wrapping his robe around Rhodri who was quietly weeping in Luc's arms. He looked up. "Why wouldn't they?"

Finnbogi and the Head exchanged looks. "There are a lot of the old prejudices alive in Britain," explained Finnbogi. "Voldemort wasn't working in a vacuum, you know. And on the whole the wizards and witches here are far more conservative about ideas that have long held sway in some of the more modernized Ministries of Magic. And some of them are highly placed.

"I don't envy Dumbledore his position. Mind you, he did move Hogwarts into Modern Times, against much resistence. Now he wants to do the same to an entire country, a country that, by its own nature, is divided into factions."

"I don't care about a country," snarled Eirik. "I care about my people. How the bloody hell could they not see it the way it is? Alexander and Rhodri are kidnapped. Alexander is tortured as is his father. Of course he's going to defend himself and his father."

Finnbogi nodded, not wanting to continue this discussion. The professor needed care as did the boys. Rhodri needed to be examined by a medic and then questioned. And he had five unconscious werewolves to get back to the Village.

Fortunately, the women of the Village were equipped to handle situations such as this one. Finnbogi concentrated hard and sent a previously agreed upon mental image back to Elder Hillswick's wife.

Later, he sat on the ground and massaged his temples as such "communication" gave him a ferocious headache, which is why he rarely used his particular talent. As he rubbed, he noticed that Eirik had brought the professor his clothing and had helped him dress. Snape wanted some water, not to drink, but to dip his handkerchief into and wash the blood off his son's face, paws and chest. The Head had a word with his two men and they did the same with the other wolves, though with spells.

Finnbogi had to admit that he had been quite unprepared for the sight of the wolves as, one by one, they had emerged from the hut. It had been obvious that the Wolfsbane's power had waned if not altogether ceased. The wolves were bloody, red-eyed, wild, ready to attack. He'd held on to Rhodri as tightly as the lad had held onto him. He wouldn't be ashamed to admit that he had been terrified. One by one, the wolves had been stunned. He decided that their headaches come moon set would probably be equal to the one with which he was now dealing.

Those casting the spells had waited long after the fifth wolf had exited before the Head had carefully made his way to the hut, wand at the ready. He had stood motionless in the doorway, looking in, for several tense breaths, until his hand had dropped and he'd moved quickly to vomit into the sun-dried bracken.

The Head hadn't allowed anyone near the hut and had been the only one to enter it, to verify that whatever was in it had once indeed been the Auror Moastifer.

"Sevvie..."

Finnbogi watched as the professor made his way over and knelt next to the woman and the boy in her arms. Rhodri lifted his tear-streaked face from her shoulder and turned, almost throwing himself into Snape's arms. The professor held him tightly, murmuring. After long minutes, the boy looked up. "Alexander," he sniffed, "said you'd come for us. He kept telling me over and over that you'd find a way to save us."

Snape smoothed the boy's fear-soaked, tangled hair off his face. "I think it's safe to say that Alexander is the one who found the way to save both of us."

Finnbogi was amazed to hear the boy laugh. Not well, but certainly bravely. "I won't be able to tease him anymore. About how I was the one who led everyone to the Circle of Stones and saved his skin." The boy rubbed his eyes with his fisted hands, smudging tears, dust and dirt. He managed a smile. "Now he's the one who's saved my skin."

The woman adjusted Eirik's robe about the boy's shoulders. "With those war stories in your repertoires, you two will have to fight the girls off."

And though his laugh was heavy with tears, Rhodri turned back to her. "So, you think they would work with you?"

Eyes shining with unshed tears, Luciana Fortunata, one of the toughest women Finnbogi had ever had to deal with, pulled the boy into her arms and kissed him gently on the mouth. "Only if you want to take on the National Team Seeker.'

Harry Potter knew a cue when he heard one. "Beater against Seeker? Not a chance!"

Rhodri rested his head on Luc's shoulder and sighed, "I guess not then."

She didn't stop her tears. "I guess not." And she buried her face in his stinking hair.

The Emergency Team of the Village arrived not long after. Finnbogi assumed that they'd already been on the way when he'd sent his message. The women were especially trained to deal with injured werewolves, whether in wolf or human form. Fourteen women arrived, each on a broomstick, paired, with a hammock-like apparatus between their broomsticks. Apparating with an injured or stunned werewolf was a tricky matter as no one knew if the wolf would suddenly wake while in apparation and upset the balance so necessary for successful transfer. Unblending a combined entity was not particularly easy and often unsuccessful.

The five werewolves were quickly transferred to the hammocks and with skillful experience the women took off, transporting the unconscious beasts back to the Village.

Two of the other women had even more specialized training. They entered the hut and efficiently yet quickly gathered the remains of the Auror Haney Moastifer into a sack and sewed it closed. Once in the Village, the sack and its remains would be immediately cremated, the ashes available for family, should they want them.

The Head wanted everyone to stay together so Rhodri was given a light sleeping potion and travelled between the final pair. Luc and Harry followed Rhodri while Eirik, riding very close to Snape, flew behind Alexander.

Before leaving, Finnbogi and the Head of Security cast a series of spells on the site that eliminated all traces of the events which had occurred there.

Near Hillswick the flyers separated. Those with the Village werewolves headed for the Council House where they would recover before going to their homes. The women with the remains headed for the small crematorium, to prepare for the Ceremony of Farewell. The others flew in silence to the house where Oddvar, Freya and the rest of the President's people stood outside on the lit up patio waiting for them to land.

Before Severus could get to Alexander, at Oddvar's signal, one of his Security detail, a large, burly man, picked up the wolf. Severus hurried to his side, hand on the boy's body as if to reassure himself. "My room. Please, put him in my room."

Oddvar caught the flash of surprise, followed immediately by one of pain, on Eirik's face, though his son said nothing.

Another member of Security picked up Rhodri and carried him upstairs to Alexander's room. Luc and Freya held a quick conference on their way up, Freya to check on Alexander then, once she'd seen for herself that the wolf was only asleep, she would join Luc with Rhodri.

Oddvar thanked the women of the Village and assured them that he would personally be involved in whatever investigation would occur. He knew the delicacy of the situation: Werewolves were executed for killing NonWerewolves.

As Oddvar had been talking to the women, he'd noticed that Harry had placed his hand on Eirik's shoulder. Together they went into the library. Finnbogi followed, as did the other three who had been on this mission.

Oddvar shut the library door behind him and noted that Orm and Ketil had set up food and drinks for the men. He didn't doubt that there would be the same in both bedrooms and at their doors where the two men who had carried the boys were now stationed.

Oddvar poured everyone a large dose of cognac, waved the tray around the room, and then took the armchair that Severus usually sat in. As each of the men took a glass, Oddvar examined them with a knowing eye. The Security people looked tired: this had not been their usual kind of operation.

Finnbogi was rubbing his head, looking more drawn than any explosive negotiating session ever affected him. Oddvar reminded himself that the man was nearly as old as he was. He would insist that Finnbogi take time off. Though Finnbogi had worked with him for over fifty years, this was his first personal experience with werewolves at their worst.

Harry Potter, though pale, was calm. In his life, the boy had seen worse, thought Oddvar. About twenty, if he remembered well, and already far too experienced with the dark side of life. Older than his years. No wonder he wanted to do nothing more serious these days than play Quidditch. Still, he was worth keeping an eye on: such maturity had its place.

Eirik was staring into his glass, lost. That "my" from Severus had wounded. Oddvar doubted that Severus had even been aware that he'd used that word. His attention had been solely focused on Alexander. Which, thought Oddvar, was as it should be. But could Eirik understand that?

"All right," he said aloud. "What happened?"

The Head of Security placed his drink on his lap. "It is my belief that Moastifer never thought that anyone would recognize the location that he'd picked. And I'm certain he thought Professor Snape would truly come alone.

"Elder Hillswick led us in from the east. We actually got there several minutes before the professor arrived. Moastifer had chosen his site well. The hut had no windows, only a door. And he had warded the area about it. He was careful not to offer himself as a target when he released a portion to allow the professor in. After he'd stripped all his clothes off. From that, we assumed the ward was against magic.

"We didn't know what went on once the professor went inside the hut: the door was closed. But Master Finnbogi went around the perimeter of the ward very carefully and finally found a weak spot which he could work with. Unfortunately, it was slow going and the Change took place before he had sufficiently opened the area so that we could all slip in.

"By the way, we really must commend Bera Hillswick for her foresight in insisting the men all have their taken their Wolfsbane before we left."

Oddvar nodded. He would see to it.

"Well, as we were slipping in, the door opened and the boy Rhodri was shoved out. He was bound hand and foot and gagged. We could hear screaming and growls from inside the hut; we heard the professor yell `Roll, find cover, in the rocks,' and then the door shut, with him inside."

"Inside? You mean to tell me that Severus went back in? With Alexander in wolf form?"

The Head nodded then, when Oddvar didn't add to that, he continued, "The boy hadn't noticed us. He began rolling towards the rocks and Master Finnbogi went after him."

Finnbogi looked up. "He was terrified but he kept his head. He looked up as he rolled and was heading towards a crevice in the rocks that was deep enough to offer some protection. He screamed when I grabbed him. I never realized that he hadn't heard us." He shook his head sadly. "I freed him. I had to use a spell."

"As soon as he could be understood," took up the Head, "Rhodri told us what was going on in the hut. How Moastifer wanted Alexander to kill both of them so that their deaths could be used as an excuse to begin a purge of `Mudbloods and Werewolves', how Moastifer had tortured both Snape and the wolf with Crucio. The wolves heard and charged. The door opened inward and easily. I followed them as far as the door. Snape was to one side, on his knees, a wand in his hand. Not his, as his was with his clothes. And not that of the boys. Seems Moastifer had burnt those along with their broomsticks and clothing."

Harry spoke up. "Rhodri is really upset about the broomstick. A Firebolt. It was a gift from his grandparents last fall when he became a Slytherin Beater.'

Oddvar nodded. Dragon reservists didn't make a great deal of money. It was done mainly out of a love and fascination for the creatures. "I'll see to it that the gift is remade."

Harry smiled.

"As I was saying," continued the Head, "the professor had a wand in his hand but it was obvious that the wolves were beginning to be affected by the scene. He made his way to the door and Master Brekke stepped in front of me to grab him."

Oddvar looked at his son who said nothing. He was still staring into the glass in his hand.

"Master Brekke got the professor away from the door, and I concluded that entering the hut would be unwise. I joined the others, ready to deal with whatever came out. We stunned the five wolves as they emerged, but no one else did."

There was silence for a moment while several of those in the room finished their drinks.

"Was Rhodri able to tell you anything else?"

The Head nodded. "He was almost hysterical at first, but he took himself in hand before we had to do something about that. Master Finnbogi held him until we had dealt with the werewolves." He looked over to Harry. "Your lady is very quick with a spell, Master Potter."

Harry grinned as he agreed.

Finnbogi interjected. "She'd warned me that if she had a chance at Moastifer she would be very pleased to kill him."

"Luc," said Harry, "is very passionate about certain things."

Eirik finally looked up and joined the group. "Yes. Yes, she is."

Oddvar caught his son's eye and smiled to him. Eirik sighed and gave a little nod back, though his attempt at a smile was mostly sad. It had been a trying time for them all, Oddvar thought, though Eirik was new at this supporting role. Would it prove to be too much for him?

"Once we'd dealt with the wolves, Madam Fortunata took charge of the boy and managed to get him to tell us what had happened. As the Village lad had reported, they were flying when they hit a protection ward. They only remembered a flash of light and then nothing until they both woke in the hut, naked and bound. Moastifer only gagged them earlier today. He fed them a couple of times and he told them all kinds of stories about Death Eaters and about the poisons the professor developed. Rhodri seemed to think that Alexander's refusal to believe him only encouraged him. Seems Rhodri's grandfather had told him a little about the professor's past. He'd been one of the wizards who had attended the trials."

The Head thought a moment then said, "The boys were quite brave. They kept their heads. Rhodri said that they hadn't cried though you wouldn't have been able to blame them if they had. He said he couldn't understand why he couldn't stop now that they'd been found."

There was a soft knock on the door and then it opened without Oddvar having time to call out "Enter."

Luc closed the door behind her. She smiled at them. "Freya has looked them all over. Alexander will have a headache from the stunning and, apart from that, there were only some abrasions around his neck from his pulling at the collar. Freya says that she'll deal with those once he's back in human form. For the moment, she's put some ointment on them.

"Rhodri will be fine as well. There were some scraps and scratches on him, but from being handled, probably when Sevvie dragged him out." She sat down next to Harry who immediately put his arm about her. Oddvar noticed that she leaned into him before straightening. Harry left his arm where it was. "She thinks a couple of solid meals will help both of them. And once Rhodri's grandparents get here, he'll probably be even better. Has anyone heard from them?"

Oddvar shook his head. "According to Freya, their last letter indicated that they were heading deep into the Romanian Reserve, to deal with an injured dragon. They'll probably return to camp and find all Severus's and Freya's letters waiting for them. I sent a special one when word got back that the boys had been found."

Luc nodded. She leaned over to address Eirik. "Sevvie seems to be suffering some aftershocks of the Crucio. Freya thinks that's because he's endured it so many times that his body can't throw off the effects quite so easily."

Eirik nodded but didn't move. It was obvious that she had expected him to. She looked at Harry who shrugged and pulled her nearer.

"Did Madam Freya indicate when the boy Rhodri might wake? Though he told us what had happened, we will need a more thorough report from him."

Luc looked as though she was going to argue with the Head but then sighed. "Freya thinks he should wake in the morning. Give her time to look him over again, and for him to get something into him, more than the broth she's fed him. You'll be careful with him, won't you? He's trying very hard to handle this like a man, but he's still a boy, in spite of his size."

The Head smiled at her protective tone. "I have a son his age and bigger yet. A child in a man's body. I'll take care with him, Madam, I promise."

Oddvar stood up. "I'm afraid that I have to be going. There's an official side to this that I need to deal with immediately." He looked around the room. The Head and his men were already on their feet, ready to escort him. They were used to long nights in his service. Oddvar smiled at Finnbogi who was struggling to his feet. "No, Finnbogi. I need you to stay here. You will need to greet the Ddus on my behalf and brief them on the situation. Consider them cleared for anything you think should be classified. And no one is officially to question the boys until I and my associates have returned.

"Harry, Luc." He shook Harry's hand. "Thank you. Harry, I know that you need to return to your team as soon as possible and I am moved, on behalf of my family, that you felt you needed to be here. Luc, if I could ask you to remain until I get back." As he hugged her, he whispered into her ear, "Eirik may need someone."

"Certainly," and she smiled at him. "I'm certain Freya will appreciate having another woman around."

The wizard in Minister Dumbledore's office was less surprised than he once would have been when he was told that the President of the International Federation of Warlocks and his men had apparated in the Ministry's lobby. It may have been past midnight, but the Personal Assistant to the Minister for Magic well knew that Government had no set hours. Especially not in this office since Cornelius Fudge had retired.

He held the door open for the President and his security people as they were ushered in by the Ministry's security representative.

President Brekke greeted him courteously. "If you would ask the Minister for some of his time, I have news that he will want to hear."

"Yes, of course, Mr. President. If you would care to wait." And he gave a soft knock on the ornate door before he opened it and slipped into the office. He was out in less than a minute. "Minister Dumbledore will see you now, Mr. President." And he opened the door.

Dumbledore was standing behind a large desk, a neat pile of documents in front of him. He stayed where he was, only nodding to Brekke as he entered. "Mr. President. I assume by your presence that the news you bring is not good.'

Brekke bent his head slightly in greeting. Without being asked, he took the chair directly in front of Dumbledore. "I'm afraid not, Minister," he said as he sat down. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at the familiarity. Usually, one waited to be asked to sit in the Minister's presence. Though his was not technically a higher rank, Brekke was aware that it had been Dumbledore's prerogative to request his being seated - or not - as they were in his office and not Brekke's.

But this was not going to be a friendly visit. Brekke had had enough and it was time that certain matters be made very clear.

Dumbledore hesitated long enough to reseat himself to make Brekke very aware that the man felt slighted.

"I'm afraid that I must inform you of the death of the Auror known as Moastifer."

"I see." Dumbledore folded his hands on the desk in front of him. "I shall see to it that the Department of Aurors retrieves his body.'

"His ashes."

Dumbledore's eyebrow rose high.

"Yes, unfortunately he met his end at the hands, if I might use that term, of werewolves. As you know, all such sad endings mean cremation. It is a safety precaution as required by International Law, dealing with Werewolves and those bitten by them."

"Yes, so that no one can use the blood of werewolves for any nefarious reason." Dumbledore sat back in his chair. "Of course, this means that there will have to be an investigation, even according to International Law."

"Of course."

"May I inquire as the occasion of Moastifer's death?"

Brekke sat back and crossed a leg over his knee, indicating that he was settling in. He quickly and efficiently brought Dumbledore up to date. He and his Head had discussed the case and its ramifications on their way over from Hillswick.

Dumbledore sat very still during Brekke's recitation. Brekke smiled to himself. A worthy opponent, he thought. This was going to require some delicate yet certain handling.

"Yes, I see. I am pleased to hear that the Ddu boy is unharmed. You know, of course, that all those involved will have to be questioned, probably Interrogated. I have no doubt that Cranston will demand the right to do so."

Brekke nodded. "Of course. And then maybe Cranston should take a good look at whom he promotes to levels such as Section Chief. Moastifer has a long history of incompetence behind him. Such a wizard should never have been allowed into the ranks of Aurors, let alone promoted. Not a good thing for the reputation of his Department."

Dumbledore shrugged. "All that is beyond my influence. The Department of Aurors is an entity onto itself."

Brekke merely cocked his head. The reality, as both men well knew, was that if the Minister for Magic indicated he wanted a review of the promotion practices of the Department of Aurors, it would be done.

"Still," said Brekke, "it might be a good thing for the Department to be seen to be investigating what appears to be a impolitic line of prejudice against werewolves and mixed bloods in general among its ranks. While I sympathize with Cranston's fear of another Voldemort arising, his persecution of so-called Mudbloods and others he feels are inferior will not much help your governing."

There was no reaction of surprise nor protest from Dumbledore: he was well aware of Cranston's position. Brekke shrugged mentally: it was not a simple procedure getting rid of high-ranking Heads who did not care to toe the official line.

"Whether he likes it or not, we live in a world where the purity of blood is less and less of a factor. If it were not, the wizardry world of Britain itself would have diminished over these past centuries to a clan no larger than that of its werewolves. Might even have disappeared completely. I think, on that point, we are both in agreement, Minister. Otherwise you would not have admitted the number of mixed bloods that Hogwarts counts among its many graduates. A decision that has proved very beneficial for the British wizardry world."

Brekke sighed. "It is a pity that some still support the old line of reasoning. Prejudices have cost this country much."

"Yes, they have," agreed Dumbledore. "Though I'm certain that Moastifer would have offered in his defense that he and his family have suffered greatly. How can we be certain that a sense of vengeance, even justice, and not prejudice, is what motivated him?

"You're, of course, referring to Professor Snape and his experiments for Voldemort. A sad time, that. So many lives destroyed and ruined. And yes, it's far too easy for unguided young people to make foolish mistakes. Unfortunately, your Aurors, when they presented themselves for the questioning of Alexander Hillswick, made several...shall we say indiscreet comments in public. These have led the people of the Hillswick Clan to doubt their impartiality into any investigation concerning any of them."

"You may reassure the innocent members of the Clan that they will not be pursued in this matter. Though all concerned in the attack on the Auror Moastifer will have to face justice." Dumbledore made to get up, indicating that he thought the meeting was now at an end.

Brekke didn't move. Dumbledore frowned, a small indication of his displeasure.

"Ah, but will it be justice? Under any legal system, a person has the right to defend himself when attacked. Your Auror kidnapped two innocent boys. One of whom he had in fact, only the previous year, cleared of all and any complicity in the charge of association with the Dark Forces. He tortured that boy with Crucio as he did the boy's father. As for his sense of justice needing reparation, well, even the Department was more than satisfied with the Pronouncement of Banishment on the boy's father."

Dumbledore sat back down with a small grimace. "Yes, well, as to that, Professor Snape seems to have been very much in the public eye since that Pronouncement."

Brekke raised an eyebrow. "Oh, now then, I was present when Pronouncement was made. I don't remember any requirement that Professor Snape was to efface himself. In fact, I seem to remember that Under-Head MacBeth was very emphatic that should Snape be found anywhere in Britain but in the locale of Banishment, he would then be arrested and incarcerated in Azkaban. But there were no constraints placed on his ability to leave the area for other jurisdictions. Under the terms of Banishment, that has to be stipulated at the time of Pronouncement and it was not. I can have Finnbogi send you a copy of the transcript if that will satisfy any doubts you have."

Dumbledore waved that offer away. "He is travelling under IFOW documents."

Brekke smiled. "Of course he is. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a decent Potions investigator? Britain didn't seem to want the professor anymore, so, of course, I secured his services as soon as I could. Let us not fool ourselves, Minister: we both know the man is brilliant. You have had almost exclusive use of his services for some twenty years. Now it is someone else's turn. And I'm certain that, after my term, many others will be after his services as well."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed, his voice was cold. "A slight oversight on our part. Snape should have remained committed to us. It was thought that a few years in isolation might make him understand that."

Brekke grew very still. "I see. And I eliminated that situation. Of course, now Snape will be willing to do anything, even return to you, if his son's life is placed in jeopardy."

Dumbledore's smile didn't reach his eyes.

Brekke smiled back in return. "And, of course, a threat to the Clan due to their involvement in this affair means a threat to the boy. You want him back at Hogwarts, I suppose, ready to do your bidding when you have need of his talents. I wonder if Snape will trust you to keep your end of the deal?"

"He will have to, won't he?"

Brekke rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and tented his hands. He put on his contemplative face. "You know, Minister, if I may say, by threatening Alexander's safety and that of his Clan, you don't seem to have grasped the delicacy of the matter."

"Really?" Dumbledore's voice was almost mocking. "Then I am certain you will clarify that for me."

"The Hillswick Clan is a small one. One of the few Clans to have survived in Britain over the centuries, mainly due to the area in which they settled. They've kept very much to themselves, in this world, going North to Lillehammer for their education, now remaining there on the whole for employment and marriage. The Village is growing smaller by the year. An almost insignificant Clan, we would both agree.

"Except for one important fact: Alexander Hillswick is my grandson. And through me, Alexander has links to fifteen other werewolf clans."

It pleased him when Dumbledore couldn't hide his surprise.

"Ah, you weren't aware of that fact, were you, Minister? Yes, international clans. Much larger and important clans. Many of which are influential in the world outside of Britain. Some of whose members have met the boy and who would take unkindly to the treatment to which he has been subjected. To the threat of Interrogation when all he and the others have done was defend humans from an Auror who was involved in plans to begin a persecution of their kind. A wizard even his Department acknowledged had serious mental health problems."

He rested his chin on the point of his joined hands. It was obvious that Dumbledore hadn't considered any of that. Brekke smiled to himself. He had been counting on the fact that Dumbledore's days were filled with the kind of irritating minutiae that new administrations felt they had to deal with personally, ignoring the reasons their predecessor had for delegating. A wizard such as Dumbledore would feel he needed to know every aspect of his Departments, especially considering he was following Cornelius Fudge, a wizard not renown for competence. Too much delegating was as bad as too little.

And besides, he had to admit that his ties through some of his wives to clans other than his own antecedents was not exactly common knowledge. He had long ago accepted his being drawn to women carrying a werewolf gene, faint though it may be, but it wasn't something he discussed publicly.

Dumbledore was a good poker player, Brekke thought: his expression had merely slipped into the contemplative.

Brekke continued. "Like all of us who have attained high office, you want to leave a legacy behind, do you not, Minister? It would do Britain good if yours was equivalent to the one you've left at Hogwarts. It should consist of all the great things you will most assuredly accomplish. And I believe you have no delusions as to the kind of dedication this office demands in order for Britain to gain the reputation it so richly deserves. I think that you've known that since you were a very young man who decided that this office would one day be his."

He allowed his voice to develop an edge.

"It would be a pity if all that was overshadowed by the legacy of having been the Minister for Magic during the Werewolf Wars. Because, do not doubt me, Minister, when I say that should the threat to the Hillswick Clan be known in certain circles, it would most certainly cause numerous problems for Britain, on many fronts. The number among us who Change has lessened over time, but those of us who do not still have strong bonds of blood with those who do. You would be surprised to learn the extent to which we werewolves move the world of wizardry."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. Though he frowned, the Minister said nothing but Brekke could tell he was quickly reviewing as many aspects to this possibility as he could envisage.

"Yes," he added, knowing what Dumbledore's counter would be, "such a war would be devastating, but it would be so for both our peoples."

"War, Mr. President," drawled the Minister coldly. "Over such a...little thing?"

Brekke's smile was equally cold. "All I need do is refer you to the Goblin War of 1276. Caused by a goblin being accidentally shoved into a mud puddle by a wizard who was in a hurry to go...wherever it was. From words to insults to assault to war. It only took three days."

Dumbledore obviously knew how to balance a ledger: the death of one Auror, a death which in any court, including one in this country, would be judged self-defense versus the unknown economic, politic and even social costs of, if not outright war, at least confrontation. All to regain power over a Potions Master. He looked as though he were being made to swallow something foul, but he said, in a scathing, cold voice, "I shall see to it that our most sensitive Auror, who is sent to compile a report, fully understands the extenuating circumstances."

"And perhaps," Brekke added, offering compensation, "if I dare mention, it might be a good thing to classify that report to the highest level. I know I can speak on behalf of the Hillswick Clan that they too would consider that wise."

Dumbledore nodded. "Very wise, Mr. President." He began rising to his feet again. "I only hope that eventually prejudices such as those held against werewolves and mixed bloods can be overcome."

Brekke ignored the dismissal. "Oh, I think so. All it takes is a little effort. After all, I have overcome my personal prejudices in dealing with you."

Brekke had wondered how, if in any way, Dumbledore would react to the insult. He went very still and his eyelids dropped, covering all but a slit of very cold blue.

Brekke had a lecturing voice he used when he wanted to recap, in as unemotional a way as possible, the points of view of both sides when he was mediating. He used it now. At first Dumbledore stood very still, not moving, face frozen as he waited for Brekke to make his point.

"Ambition and family. I have been fortunate in that I have been able to combine the two. Like you, the office I serve is one that I decided, quite a few years ago, was the one I wanted. I successfully worked my way towards it until I won election five years ago. And all that in spite of what is known in many circles as Brekke's Coven. I fully admit to liking women but not being particularly successful in dealing with them on a personal level. I seem to understand larger needs better than specific ones. My loss, I am certain."

Dumbledore frowned, raising his hand as though to interrupt, but Brekke kept on talking.

"The end result of having had eight wives is a large family. I have twentytwo children, all of whom were born under my roof. They all know who their father is. Especially when they need money or support of some kind. I find them all very easy to love though I must admit that some of them have driven and still drive me crazy at times."

As he'd spoken, Dumbledore's eyes had grown dark.

"I have many grandchildren who again know me. As I know them.

"I know the cost of Ambition, Minister, and it can be high. But I find it hard to understand a man who is so much in its clutches that he was ready to deny his children and grandchildren for it."

Dumbledore made a move much like a shudder. Brekke thought he might say something - might try to deny his accusation - when his mouth opened, but he didn't. Dumbledore's face assumed a greyish tinge. Hands clasping the arms of his chair, the Minister slowly sat down. His eyes seemed to lose all colour as he stared at Brekke. He sat very straight in his chair, his hands gripped whitely on the desk in front of him.

"Finnbogi, as your Aurors must have reported, has no equal when he's researching. If he gets a whiff of something, he needs to track it down to the cause. He burrows through documents that no one else would be able to connect. He finds information that makes no sense until it is joined to other such pieces and then a picture appears.

"Let us look at such a picture."

Brekke allowed his voice to assume a neutral tone. His eyes held Dumbledore's the entire time he spoke.

"A young, ambitious wizard designs a plan of action to take him to the very top. He is steadfast in his pursuit of this goal; a good characteristic for the office he wishes to attain one day.

"But our wizard has a small flaw: he has a certain fondness for...well, why bother being polite. He has a fondness for pretty but vapid, even stupid witches who are not very educated. And who will not remember him once the next cock comes around."

Dumbledore's lips compressed into a tight line. And from then on, he barely seemed to be breathing as Brekke continued.

"Unfortunately for him, after years of precautions, one of them had the misfortune of conceiving. Fortunately, she was unable to trace him down when he disappeared after she informed him of the fact. Her family was not kind to her though they allowed her to remain after the birth of the child. A daughter, who grew up to be as pretty if not more vapid than her mother. The daughter in turn fell in love with a Muggle, of all people. And, following in her mother's footsteps, conceived a child by him.

"Unfortunately for the daughter, there exists a certain prejudice among some low-level families against Mudbloods. She found herself cast out of the family home, such as it was. Her lover was willing to fund her a small allowance and even celebrated the birth of the child, a son, until she let it slip that she was a witch. And suddenly she found that she was once more dealing with prejudice, this time against her kind, and yet again she was cast out.

"She managed to survive in the vicinity, always certain that her Muggle lover would one day return to her. Even as a very young child, her son was wiser than she, probably because he had inherited his grandfather's intelligence." Brekke shrugged, "One hears of such things skipping a generation.

"When the Muggle married a girl that his family approved of, even she had to understand that he would never return to her. And that knowledge killed her. The father, not knowing what to do with the boy, not wanting him around in case he had inherited his mother's witchcraft, confined him to a Muggle orphanage, where the boy's difference isolated him. Until he attained the age of eleven and he was called up by Hogwarts - by the then Headmaster - to learn about his true nature.

"Meanwhile, our ambitious wizard had learnt his lesson. He managed to avoid any other such...entanglements, being very careful not to impregnate any other of his little flaws until, some twenty-eight years after his first child was born, another was conceived.

"Once again the mother was a pretty thing. But this one had a better understanding about how the game was played. She was of a far better class for one thing - after all, our wizard was moving up through the world - married for another, and had already presented her husband with the required two sons. Neither adult was particularly interested in either each other or their children, preferring themselves over such concerns. For some reason, the woman decided to carry the child. A daughter. Again as pretty as the mother, which meant that the husband had no particular concerns that anyone would think the child was not his. I wouldn't be surprised if the woman found a way of making him think the girl was his.

"The woman was actually quite pleased with this child. A doll for her to dress up and play with. I believe she even called her Dolly, though that wasn't her real name. Dolly in turn grew to be even more self-concerned than her mother. Fortunately, she was married off to a man who loved his mirror as much as she loved hers. It was unfortunate that the child born to them, a boy, was so ugly. I understand that neither parent could bear to be in the same room as the boy, leaving him to the mercy of the servants. Until he too was called to Hogwarts."

Brekke pretended to be sympathetic. "You really can't blame them, can you? Even now Severus hasn't really grown into that nose or those ears of his."

There was no reaction at all from Dumbledore.

"Many think that Severus was drawn to the Dark Arts out of a sense of revenge against his parents, for their neglect of him. You and I both know that isn't so.

"Voldemort came by his talent for manipulation...honestly. He had his spies in the school..."

Dumbledore twitched. Ah, thought Brekke, his precious school: that was all that was important to him, even now.

"...and he knew who had the talent he needed. He took one look at the boy who was Severus Snape and he gave him what he hungered for. Not an opportunity for revenge, but recognition. Encouragement. It didn't cost him anything. Only a few words. `Good work, Severus. You actually created that potion? Incredible, Severus. I'm so proud of knowing someone with such abilities, Severus. I doubt there isn't a potion that you couldn't create, if you put your mind to it, Severus.'"

Brekke couldn't hold back his contempt for this man. "You know, Minister, I wonder, had Severus ever heard any words of encouragement from his grandfather, would he have been tempted over into the Dark Arts and into Voldemort's hands?"

Brekke stood up. He looked down at the wizard in the Minister for Magic's chair, like a judge passing judgement. "Well, not your concern any longer. Severus belongs to us now. Please have your Auror present his or her credentials to Finnbogi on arrival. Finnbogi will be representing the many Clans with an interest in this matter and will be reporting back to them. I'm certain that he will be most pleased to indicate that peaceful ties between the Hillswick Clan and the Ministry of Magic have been reestablished."

At the door, he paused and looked over to the wizard who was staring blankly at the wall in front of him. "It also gives one pause to wonder, does it not, Minister," this time his voice was only curious, "if Tom Riddle had gotten the attention he so badly needed from his grandfather, would there ever have been a Voldemort?"

Severus sat on the side of his bed, watching his wolf-son sleep. Freya had assured him that he would not be affected by the stunning. That, though he had suffered Crucio, he had done so in wolf form and would not remember it when he Changed. As he would not remember being one of five who had torn Moastifer apart.

"One of the blessings of being a werewolf," she'd said. "It might be different if he'd taken the Wolfsbane, but he hadn't. He won't remember anything about it. As for those who did, I doubt that their killing the Auror who had planned for their destruction will bother them greatly."

At some point in the night, Eirik had come into the room to get a change of clothing. He'd stopped by the bed and placed his hand on Severus's shoulder. Severus had shrugged it off. He was faintly aware that he had hurt Eirik by doing so, but right then he couldn't stand being touched. He hadn't wanted to deal with anything other than the son who lay in his bed. Not even Eirik's sympathy.

Eirik had taken his clothing and left without saying a word. Better that way.

Freya had come several hours later with some broth in a large mug for him. He hadn't wanted to drink it but she'd stood glaring at him, reminding him that the last thing his son needed was to wake and find his father fainting from hunger. He'd finally taken it when she'd assured him that she hadn't slipped anything into the broth. No sleeping potion, nothing else either: she'd already cast a nerve-calming spell on him to deal with the occasional tremblings which were his after-effects of Crucio. She understood his need to watch and wait Alexander's Change.

He had left the bed at one point. He'd removed the clothing he'd worn, used his wand to clean himself, and had carefully selected the clothing he'd then put on. He'd gone around the room, picking up a couple of items and placing them in his robe pockets.

Now all he had left to do was wait until Alexander Changed and woke up.

The sun had risen before the moon set and Alexander shuddered. Severus watched his son Change, wincing with each whimper and moan, until a boy, gangly with age, thin, still short of his full growth, lay in the bed.

The boy's hand rose to his face and he rubbed his eyes. He grimaced, probably from the headache that Freya had warned Severus about. He opened his eyes, shut them, then squinted to see where he was.

"Papa?" Said sleepily.

Severus found the strength to smile. "Yes, Alexander."

"Papa!" Said with eyes wide open. Said with a hint of terror.

"Yes, Alexander." He reached out and touched his son's cheek. "It's over, son. We're home. You're in my room."

And suddenly he had an armful of precious boy against him. Holding. Clinging. Crying softly against his shoulder. Saying over and over between sobs, "Papa...papa...papa."

Severus held on as tightly as he could, imprinting the feel of his child against him, into him. He rubbed his cheek against the hair that needed to be washed. He buried his nose in it and inhaled deeply, finally comprehending Eirik's need and delight in the scent of another. His hands caressed his son's back in soothing circles, memorizing the feel of skin and muscle over bone. His fingertips learnt each and every vertebrae, the boniness of his son's shoulders, the wiriness of the arms wrapped around his own neck.

"It's all right, Alexander. All is well. No one will ever threaten you again."

It took time for Alexander to calm. To allow Severus to hold his handkerchief to his nose so he could blow. To wipe his tears against Severus's shoulder. To sign with contentment. To ask, "Papa, Rhodri...?"

"He's fine. Luc and Freya are taking care of him."

"Papa, did I...bite...?"

"No one." Severus pulled back so that he could tilt his son's face up to him. "Rhodri was not bitten. I wasn't bitten. Moastifer is dead."

Alexander's face went very adult. "I killed him."

Severus shook his head. "No. What you did was delay long enough so that we could be rescued. Elder Hillswick and others arrived just in the nick of time. They came with Harry and Luc and...and Eirik. Even Finnbogi."

Alexander wasn't to be distracted. "Then we killed him. We werewolves killed him."

Severus wondered if this was going to be too much for the boy. But it was the truth and, sooner or later, someone would mention it to Alexander. Better it come from his father. "Yes. Yes, the five werewolves did kill him."

He waited for Alexander's reaction. It managed to surprise him.

"Good. He needed killing." Alexander looked into his eyes. "What he did, what he wanted to do, was evil."

"Yes, it was." And he kissed his son's forehead.

"And now he can't hurt anyone any more."

"No," said Severus, very calmly, "no, he can't." He stroked his son's cheek. "He's gone." Then he smiled at his son. "As I have to go."

Alexander didn't seem to understand. He frowned as he did when trying to work out a difficult problem. "Go? What... What are you talking about? Go? Go where?"

Severus reluctantly set his son away from him. He placed his hands on the boy's shoulders and looked at him. His heart memorized the boy's features.

"Alexander, I have to go. I can't stay here with you anymore."

"But...what happened? Did I do something..."

You haven't done anything, son. You've been the innocent one in all this. I'm the one who bears the guilt and you're the one who's being made to pay."

"Papa, I don't understand what... What are you talking about?"

"Alexander. Three times your life has been in jeopardy because of me, because of what I did. No more."

"Papa..."

"Listen to me. Draco Malfoy kidnapped you and took you to Voldemort because of me. You were tortured because of me. You nearly died there because of me. Moastifer wanted you to submit to his Interrogation because of me. Because of me, he kidnapped you, he tormented you, he tortured you. Because of me! Me, Alexander. Me."

Alexander had begun shaking his head, saying "No, papa, no," louder and louder as though to drown out Severus's words. Severus grasped the boy's head between his two hands, "Yes, Alexander, yes."

Alexander reached for Severus, but he pulled back, beyond the boy's shorter reach, though he still held onto his son's head. Alexander's hands gripped Severus's arms. "No more. You had a normal life until I came into it. If I leave, you will have one again. No one will use you to get to me. You won't be put into danger. If they want me, they'll have to come find me themselves."

Alexander was shaking, beginning to cry hysterically. "Noooo!"

"I love you, Alexander, more than I ever thought possible to love someone. More than I thought I had it in me to love. But I will not be responsible for your death." Severus took a breath and began severing the ties to his child. "All that Moastifer told you was true. I did things for which I should have been sent to Azkaban. Where I should have died. Be thankful that you don't carry my name. Your association with me has already been too costly for you. This is the only way I can keep you safe."

Alexander began screaming, "NO! PAPA! NO!"

Severus extricated himself from his son's hands, stood up and stepped back quickly from the bed. He pulled his robe tightly around him. "I can't see any other way to protect you, Alexander. Goodbye, my son."

In the library, Eirik was sharing yet another mug of coffee with Finnbogi. He knew that the moon had set and that Severus would be with his humanized son. He heard some noise that made him look up to the ceiling. No one had cast the spell of silencing on their...on Severus's bedroom since before the boys had disappeared. He thought he heard crying. Then, he felt strangely uneasy. He looked over to Finnbogi who was staring tiredly into his mug.

The sounds from upstairs bothered him more and more.

"Finn. Finn!"

Finnbogi looked up.

They both heard "No, papa, no," faint but very audible.

"Finn, the anti-apparation wards, are they still up?"

"No. No, I removed them once your father left. There was no need..."

"Put them back up. Now, Finn! NOW!"

Finnbogi was used to responding immediately to certain tones. Without questioning Eirik's need for urgency, he pulled out his wand and chanted the anti-apparation wards as Eirik went rushing out of the room, up the stairs to the bedroom, all the while cursing away.

Eirik was reaching for the door as Alexander screamed, "NO, PAPA, NO!"

He was standing in the open doorway when Severus understood that he couldn't apparate. When his face changed from stoic to regret. When Alexander threw himself off the bed and onto his father, sobbing.

When Severus looked over his son to Eirik in the doorway and knew that Eirik was the reason he was still here.

Oddvar found his son in the garden, sitting slumped on the bench, staring at his hands. He hadn't been able to return immediately as there had been one or two things that had required his attention. He'd sent his Head on so that the man could keep his promise to Luc and be the one to question Rhodri and then, once Freya had dealt with the latest situation, Alexander.

She'd dealt with it in a rather blunt manner, even for her. She'd run upstairs, wand in hand, and had cast a sleeping spell on Severus as he'd stood there, son in his arms, glaring at Eirik.

Right now, Severus was snoring away softly in his bed. Alexander, washed, fed, reassured - not just by Freya but by Eirik, by Finnbogi - questioned, reassured yet again, was sleeping in the same bed, wrapped around his father as though to prevent him from leaving.

Oddvar knew that for a fact having checked in on them before coming out.

He sat on the bench next to his son and looked out over the garden.

"It's hard, loving someone."

Eirik sat back, eyes seemingly staring at the tree in the far end. "Harder still to realize that the one you love is incapable of loving in return."

Oddvar was taken aback. "What makes you say that?"

Eirik turned his head and looked his father in the eyes. "He was ready to leave. Me, I can understand, but Alexander?"

"Severus thought that by doing so he was protecting his son. Probably thought he was protecting you as well."

Eirik scoffed. "The logic of that eludes me."

Oddvar turned so that he could watch his son's face in the dying light of day. "Eirik, do you remember the werecub your mother rescued from some Muggle owner?"

Eirik nodded. "She was livid. I'd never seen her that angry. What does that have to do with this?"

"She tried hard - we all did, I seem to remember - to teach the cub that he wasn't a freak. That he was accepted as he was. That he had a place, an equal place, with us for as long as he wanted."

"Didn't work," said Eirik, sadly. "He disappeared one Change and never came back. I think he broke Mother's heart."

"Did you ever think - I know you were a child then, but think now. That cub was about Alexander's age. All he'd known was brutality. I think we scared him more than any beating ever had. We were offering him something unthinkable - his freedom. And it terrified him."

Eirik was silent for a long while. "You're saying that Severus is like that. That he's afraid to love."

"Try seeing it from his perspective. He does love, Eirik. He loves Alexander. There can be no doubt of that, even in your mind. But, because of his love, Alexander's life has been threatened, more than once. This last time, not only Alexander was put in danger, but Rhodri. And even himself. Have you thought how Alexander would have felt, had Moastifer's plan for him to kill his father and his best friend succeeded? Do you think the boy could have lived with that knowledge?"

"All right," Eirik sighed, "I see what you're driving at."

"That's good. Now consider this. Severus is used to dealing with his problems by himself. He's been alone for most of his life. Until Alexander, he had only himself to worry about. Now he has his son, and he has you. And he's seen how Alexander has been made to pay the price for his love. Maybe he's afraid that you'll have to pay it as well."

Eirik shook his head. "Fine. So how do I overcome all that?"

Oddvar smiled at the tone of frustration. "You know, Eirik, one of the things I most admire about you is your determination."

Eirik's surprise was written on his face. Oddvar felt a pang of conscience. He had accused Dumbledore of putting Ambition first, yet how truly different was he? Well, he had a chance to make up for lost time and he would. "There you are, an artist born into a family of physicians, financiers, lawyers, politicians, diplomats. And no matter what, you've stayed true to yourself.

"You put up with your siblings' slurs, their teasing, even their anger when you showed them in your oh, so delicate manner what you thought of them. You put up with your mother's relegating your talent to the status of hobby . And you dealt with my incomprehension."

Oddvar smiled sadly at his son. "It's not easy, you know, trying to see your world. I've tried, more so of late. I have my skills, Eirik , but they're not yours. I see a situation and I can separate it into tiny pieces so that each is understandable and then I can rearrange the pieces so they fit better. This one did this or acted this way because that one did that. You come along and look at the same situation and see...colours, movements. Emotion. I see the whys and wherefores and you see the soul."

Amazingly, Eirik's face tinged pink.

"I know that I haven't been as supportive as you might have liked, Eirik, but I have been as much as I am able, considering what I am." Oddvar reached out and placed his hand on his son's lying on his lap.

Eirik looked almost shy. "I know it worried you."

"Yes, of course it did. I'm a parent, Eirik, even if I'm not a particularly good one. But every day, I deal with the world of consequences. I was worried about you. But no more. Your choice of career is the right one for you, Eirik. The only one for you."

Eirik's eyes were bright. "Even if I end up on a street corner, sketching for knuts?"

Oddvar gave his son's hand a last squeeze before standing. "Will never happen. You're far too good. You're good now and you'll be better. Because you'll stay with it. Steadfast, determined.

"It's a very different thing, my son, being needed for your steadfastness, for your determination rather than..." his finger stroked his son's cheek, "your beauty. Or even your talent. There are two people upstairs who need that from you. So, what are you doing here?"

Eirik stood up. Oddvar opened his arms and Eirik went into them. They held onto each other tightly and then Oddvar kissed the side of his son's head.

"I love you, Eirik."

Eirik's laugh was teary. "I know. I've always known that. I love you, too, papa."

Oddvar hugged his son and then released him. As Eirik went to the door, he added, "Eirik, I know I've not said it nearly enough, but I'm proud of you. Very proud."

Eirik turned at the door. His smile put the sun set to shame. "Thank you, papa."

And he went in.

"That was very good of you, Oddvar."

It gave Oddvar a start. He turned to find Freya watching him from the far side of the garden. He was surprised to find he was embarrassed that she had witnessed the moment between Eirik and himself. So he shrugged and then smiled at her. "Have you come to tell me that you'll marry me, Freya of the Bright Eyes?"

Freya slipped her hands into her robe pockets. "I'm 90 years old, Oddvar Brekke. A little older than your usual choices. And I certainly couldn't give you a child, not at my age."

Oddvar laughed, a little self-consciously. "I've had twenty-two of those. By the time my youngest reaches maturity, I'll be over 150. I think it's time to pay attention to the ones I have, and to my grandchildren."

Freya cocked her head as though considering. "Will you be trying for a second term as President?"

He shook his head. "You know the rules specify only one term of ten years. The IFOW is not in search of megalomaniacs who seek total control. Only wizards or witches who know they must do their best in a limited amount of time."

Freya shrugged. "Well, you're only mid-way in your term. You really haven't the time to court and woo a wife."

Oddvar stood very still. This was further than they had ever gone in this little play of theirs. He was a good mediator because he was good at picking up nuances. And he seemed to be picking some up from Freya Hillswick that had never been there before. He took a chance and continued.

"And at the end of my term, when I will have the time to properly court and woo a wife, what then, Freya of the Bright Eyes?"

She smiled at him, a mischievous, youthful smile. "Well, then," she said, eyes truly bright, "you will have to take your chances and come courting, won't you?"

Upstairs, in their bedroom, Eirik pulled up a chair to the bed and sat in it. Severus was lying on his back, his face still drawn with lines of stress, even after all this time asleep. Eirik sighed.

"You're just going to have to learn to share, Sevvie."

He leaned forwards and pulled the covers over Severus's shoulders. He tucked one corner and then, with a sense of relief, he gently stroked his man's face.

The boy moved and made a small nose. Eirik smiled. He reached over and touched the boy's head. His partner's son. His son as well.

"Onkel Eirik?"

"Yes, Alexander. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Go back to sleep."

"Papa?"

"Your papa's here. And he's staying. Even if I have to tie him down to the bed."

There was a sleepy chuckle. "Thank you." The sound of a yawn. "Love you, Onkel Eirik."

Eirik leaned over and kissed the boy's head. "Love you, too, Alexander."

He sat back and watched silently as Alexander slipped back into sleep.

Eventually, he found his sketch pad and drew his lover sleeping with their son.

Alexander woke up slowly. It took him a moment or two to remember that he was in his father's bed. He raised his head and sighed when he realized his father was still here, in bed. Sound asleep.

And that they weren't alone. Onkel Eirik was also in bed, on his other side. As if both adults were protecting him, even in their sleep.

He moved cautiously, not wanting to wake them up, but he very badly needed to piss. He tiptoed out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind him. The early morning sunlight was bright enough for him to see Rhodri coming towards him, also making for the bathroom.

Alexander watched his friend, wondering how Rhodri felt about him now that he had seen him as a real werewolf, without the humanizing influence of the Wolfsbane.

"Alexander?"

Alexander nodded. Rhodri came up to him. They looked at each other for a breath and then, arms open, they grabbed and held onto each other.

"You all right?" Rhodri sounded worried. "They told me you were fine but they wouldn't let me see you."

"Yes, fine. You?"

"Well, I really need to pee in the worst way, but apart from that..."

They laughed softly and went into the bathroom together where they pulled up their nightshirts so that they could piss into the toilet. Two equally relieved sighs filled the room over the sounds of jetting water.

"Hungry?" Alexander shook the final drops off his cock.

Rhodri grinned. "You?"

They tiptoed down the stairs, careful not to make any noise as they passed the library where the sound of snores could be heard even through the door.

"Finnbogi," whispered Alexander.

In the kitchen, they helped themselves to sausages from the cold pantry, butter and a jug of milk. Alexander added two glasses and a knife to the pile along with a loaf of fresh bread. Carefully balancing their hoard, the two of them made their way out to the garden, to their favourite spot along the wall.

They were on their second rounds of sausage sandwiches and glasses of milk when Alexander finally spoke up. "Rhodri, what happened after I Changed?"

Rhodri swallowed his mouthful. "Haven't they told you anything?"

Alexander grimaced. "Not really. I think they're afraid I won't be able to handle it." He lay down his sandwich. "Is that what you think as well?"

Rhodri chewed another mouthful while he thought. Alexander waited, knowing that Rhodri was not trying to avoid answering him, only putting his thoughts into order.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Alexander thought a moment. "Moustifer yelling that I was going to kill you as well."

Rhodri nodded. "Well, then he said something about how werewolves were going to hunted down, how Hogwarts would be cleaned of all vermin. By then you'd Changed."

"Rhodri?"

"Yes?"

"Was I truly terrifying? Papa said that once he'd had to face a werewolf who hadn't taken Wolfsbane and that he had been terrified."

Rhodri looked into Alexander's eyes. "Yes, you were pretty scarey. Scarier still because Mousitfer kept using Crucio on you which only made you wilder and crazier. He used it on your father too, when he tried to get to Moustifer."

"On papa?" Alexander shook his head. "Again!" Maybe , he thought, that explained why his father had acted as he had...

"When he thought you were good and crazy, Moustifer began levitating. I guess he wanted to watch you kill us. He was cackling away to himself like one of those Cornish pixies. You remember the ones we had to deal with in first year Defence. Then he used his wand and released your collar. But instead of attacking your father, you jumped high...really high, Alexander...it was really impressive, the way you did that...I swear he was a good eight, nine feet up...and you grabbed him by the leg and dragged him down."

Rhodri drank down half a glass of milk while Alexander waited. He wiped his milk moustache off with the back of his hand before he continued.

"Didn't matter what he did to you, you held on. While you were hanging onto him, your father dragged me out of the hut and told me to find some shelter. The rocks were filled with crevices..."

He stopped and stared at his hands. He looked up at Alexander, his voice almost reverent with admiration. "Then you know what your father did, Alexander?"

Alexander shook his head.

"He went back in. He went back into the hut and closed the door behind him."

Alexander was speechless at the horror of it.

Rhodri nodded his head. "Luc said to me that he did that because he wanted to be with you, no matter what. Your grandfather's Head of Security told me that since the door only opened from the inside, there was a good chance that you in wolf wouldn't be able to open it easily. That he was buying me time to find a safe place to hide from you.

"Your father, Alexander," Rhodri's voice broke, "is a bloody hero."

Both of them were very quiet. Each pretended the other wasn't using the bottom of his nightshirt to wipe his face.

Alexander poured the last of the milk into their glasses. He picked his up and played with the glass, rolling it between his hands as he found the courage to look up at Rhodri.

"Rhodri. Do you hate me now that you've seen what I can be?"

Rhodri choked on his milk. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Well, you've only ever seen me before as a wolf under the influence of Wolfsbane. And I know that I scared you. Moustifer was right: I might have killed you."

Rhodri shook his head. "Alexander. Yes, you scared me, but you also saved my life. You could have attacked me and your father, but you didn't. You saved us. There was enough of you, Alexander, left in the wolf to do that."

Alexander bit his lips as he thought. "Have I ever scared you before? After I Change."

Rhodri leaned back on his hands. He took his time answering. "Yes, after you told us you were a werewolf. I mean, I really didn't know you then. We really didn't become friends until the Challenge. And when you decided to go back to Hogwarts, Madam McGonagall wrote to my grandparents - and to Geoff's aunt - about your sharing dorm room with us."

Alexander put his glass down. "What did your grandparents say?"

Rhodri cocked his head, trying to remember. "Mam told me it was my decision. Tad sat me down and told me that..." Rhodri stopped and stared intensely at Alexander.

"What? What did he tell you?"

Rhodri stayed very still then he gave a sharp nod of his head. "He told me about your father."

Alexander knew his mouth had dropped open.

Rhodri sat up straight. "Tad said that he had attended the trials after Harry took Voldemort's powers from him. He said that he was there when your father came up for questioning. He told me a little about the charges, just enough, he said, so that I would understand that if Severus Snape said he had a potion that allowed a werewolf to retain its humanity, then he did."

Then Rhodri looked incredibly sheepish. "Still, he made me promise that the first few times, I would have my wand at hand and he taught me a really strong stupefying spell, one that can be used on dragons."

He laughed softly. "It's a good thing I never needed it `cause I forgot how it went."

Alexander was very silent for long minutes. He finally looked at Rhodri. "That's why you weren't so surprised at the things Moustifer told us about papa. You knew."

Rhodri shrugged. "Only some." He went on, hesitantly at first, "Tad told me that people sometimes make mistakes. The important thing is to learn from them. And he said that your papa was someone he would trust. He said he would because, at the trial, your papa never tried to wriggle his way out of the charges. He admitted that he'd done things that weren't nice and that he was willing and ready to take the punishment."

He smiled, nodding his head, "Tad said that he was very pleased when he learnt that your papa was teaching at Hogwarts. It was also one of the reasons he was very pleased when I wrote him that I had been sorted into Slytherin. He said that your papa took care of his House."

Alexander snorted. "He couldn't stop the Aurors from taking over."

Rhodri scoffed. "No one could have stopped them, except the Headmaster. Tad was pretty livid about that. He sent the Headmaster a Howler."

"Really? A Howler? To the Headmaster? Wow, Rhodri!"

Rhodri's admiration for his grandfather was very obvious. "Yes, wow, Alexander!"

Alexander lay back on the grass and stared at the sky. "Rhodri, so we're still friends?"

Rhodri threw himself backwards, next to Alexander. "Sure. Did you think any of this would matter?" He propped himself up on an elbow.

Alexander nodded slightly.

Rhodri scoffed loudly. "Bloody hell, Alexander Hillswick, you're my very best friend in the whole world. Why would you think that anything would change that?"

Alexander grinned back. "I'm glad because you're my very best friend too in the whole world."

"That's the only thing that matters," said Rhodri. And he reached over and punched Alexander on the shoulder, none too gently.

Alexander rolled a little from the punch. He reached up and returned the favour. Rhodri fell backwards. He stretched out his hand and slammed it down on Alexander's stomach. Alexander grimaced as he rubbed his abdomen. With the speed he'd honed as Seeker, he rolled over on top of Rhodri who followed through by rolling on top of Alexander. Alexander reached for his friend's ribs, for that one spot which had Rhodri screaming with laughter.

Eirik had suggested a game of cards after lunch to keep the boys occupied. Freya and Finnbogi decided to join them so they were all outside on the patio when the Ddus arrived. Ddu looked slightly surprised then relieved at seeing them all. Eirik understood now why Ddu would have been worried no matter what the last letter to them had said: it was part and parcel of being - he smiled at Alexander - a parent.

Rhiannon Ddu had barely leapt off her broomstick when Rhodri was in her arms. "Mam!"

The boys had impressed Eirik with the way they had handled whatever tension might have existed between them. He'd woken to find Alexander missing and had rushed out, already imagining the worst - damn, this parenting business was hard on the nerves! - only to find the boys roughhousing in the garden.

But now Alexander was wearing a worried look. Eirik thought it might have something to do with how the Ddus might react. He went up to the boy and placed his hands on the bony shoulders, offering support. Alexander looked up at him, smiled a little timorously, and leaned back against Eirik.

The trust this child had in him suddenly hit Eirik. Warmth filled him and he wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders, drawing him even closer. Damn, if this parenting business hadn't its good points!

Ddu waited until his wife reached for her handkerchief to grab Rhodri in turn.

Eirik realized that though Rhiannon had needed to be reassured that Rhodri was all right, Evan was the one now offering reassurance to the boy. Whatever he was murmuring in the boy's ear had him sniffing and burrowing his head deeper against his grandfather's shoulder.

Rhiannon blew her nose and wiped her eyes. She came up to Alexander and opened her arms wide to him. Alexander went into them.

Eirik felt a small flash of jealousy but then he pushed it away. Alexander needed reassurance that he was not going to be banished from Rhodri's friendship. Rhiannon's tears and murmurs were doing just that.

This time, after she wiped her eyes again, she smiled at all of them. "I don't know which of you sent that letter, the one that kept yelling `Open me first!', but thank Merlin you did."

Ddu coughed to clear his voice as he brushed the hair off his grandson's face. His voice was gruff, "Well, can't say you look much the worse for wear in spite of your adventures."

And he didn't. Neither did Alexander. It was only the adults who looked wrung out!

Rhodri grinned at Alexander and then at his grandfather but suddenly went very serious. "Tad, he burnt my broomstick. He chopped it up and burnt it. And Alexander's as well. And our wands."

"An evil man," agreed Evan Ddu, once more reaching for Rhodri. Eirik sympathized: the boy had been so pleased with his broomstick. "Truly evil."

And then Evan Ddu came up to Alexander and hugged the boy. After a moment, voice gruff, he growled, "So, wolves and dragons, eh? I understand that you two make quite a team."

And Alexander lost his worried look and grinned at Evan Ddu. Then he leaned around him to grin at Rhodri. "Rhodri says that Luc said that the girls will really like hearing about our adventures. He says now we have one each."

Ddu groaned loudly. "And let's keep it at that. I don't think any of us can survive another of your adventures."

Eirik found himself nodding vigorously. "Ain't that the truth!"

While Freya and Rhiannon had the boys help them prepare a meal for the newcomers, Finnbogi, Eirik and Evan slipped into the library for a quick talk. Finnbogi was, as always, succinct.

Evan Ddu listened in silence, his face impassive. Eirik saw the Head of a dragon reserve, not the grandfather.

"Well, I am not by nature a violent man, but I have to tell the two of you that I am mightily pleased that Moastifer met his end in such an unpleasant manner."

"The entire matter has been classified, Master Ddu," said Finnbogi. "We felt it best for the security of the Hillswick Clan and, frankly, for the boys. The Head of Security had a talk with both of them, making certain that they both know not to talk about the situation."

Evan Ddu became the grandfather again. He scoffed, rolling his eyes. But before he had time to say anything, Finnbogi smiled. "Well, to no one other than immediate family and I believe his name is Geoff."

Ddu agreed. "Yes, it would be rather unreasonable to ask them not to share their adventure with Geoff. A secret as good as this one must be shared with at least one person."

Finnbogi nodded. "We have also informed the Headmistress of Hogwarts and their Head of House. Madam Hillswick has seen to it that Madam Pomfrey also knows. Just in case there should be repercussions later on. They both seem to be handling the situation well, but who knows?"

And with that, Finnbogi left them, returning to his duties.

Over the meal, Evan explained that they had been deep into the Romanian Reserve, along with several other reservists, dealing with a badly injured dragon, while all this had been going on. They'd returned to camp only the previous night, to find a small stack of mail waiting for them.

"The boys' adventure was over," said Rhiannon, "before we'd even known they were having one."

"Darn fool Longhorn flew into the face of a mountain during a storm. A young male, which explains it. Should have headed for shelter rather than try and prove that he was stronger than the winds and rains." Evan looked specifically at the two boys as he said that.

"Not like we asked to be kidnapped," muttered Rhodri.

Evan looked from one boy to the other. "No," he agreed. "But it's just that I would like to think that you two have learnt something from all this. You two kept your heads in a situation where, if you'd lost them, you might have made matters worse. I just hope that lesson will stay with you the rest of your lives. In times of crisis, think before you react. It should serve you in good stead."

Alexander went off with Rhodri to help him pack his things. The Ddus would be heading back to Wales as soon as Rhodri was ready.

When the boys had gone inside, Evan looked from Freya to Eirik. "Where's Severus?"

"Sleeping," said Eirik. He exchanged a look with Freya then sighed, "We're still having a little bit of trouble with him."

Evan sat back in his chair. "He blames himself. Thinks he's the one responsible for a lunatic's behaviour."

Freya nodded her head. "He tried to leave. He's very angry with us for preventing that. The days of waiting were harder on him than he let on. Harder than I think any of us could guess. And he was subjected to more Crucio."

"He's convinced himself that if he stays," added Eirik, "Alexander will die."

"Bloody idiot," muttered Evan.

"Evan!" Rhiannon was shocked.

"Well, he is. I suppose this all has to do with his time with Voldemort? I never thought I would say this, but maybe he should have been sent to Azkaban. Then maybe he would feel he had been properly punished and he'd be able to get on with his life."

Eirik wondered if Evan might not have a point. But then the man added, "These bloody sensitive types!"

Eirik choked back a laugh. He looked at Freya who began chuckling.

"Well," Eirik said, "whatever you do, don't let Severus hear you call him that. He thinks he's tougher than...than dragon hide."

Before the Ddus left, Eirik pulled Evan aside for a private moment. "My father and I want to thank you and your wife for the support you've given Severus and Alexander all this time. Alexander feels very badly that Rhodri's broomstick and wand were destroyed because of him. Father promised him he'd deal with the matter. You'll find a Firebolt waiting to be picked up at Quality Quidditch Supplies and Ollivander will be presenting his bill for Rhodri's new wand to us."

Before Evan could do more than sputter, Eirik continued. "Please. You allowed Rhodri to come here fully expecting him to be safe. He wasn't. Yes. I know: not of our doing. But our consciences need to be appeased far more than your pride, Evan Ddu."


	8. Eight by Josan

Part Eight

Oddvar Brekke stood in the doorway of his son's bedroom and looked at the man sitting silently in a chair, staring at the wall in front of him.

He'd come when Freya's and Eirik's letters to him had both mentioned that Severus had not spoken to either of them since he had been allowed to awaken, three days ago. That he ate only if they sent Alexander in with his food and then not enough to keep a mouse alive.

Freya and Eirik had both tried getting through to Severus, to no avail. He ignored them, ignored whatever they said to him. He heard only Alexander.

There were times, Oddvar thought, that situations called for kid gloves. Others, when boxing ones were more appropriate. He closed the door hard behind him. "So. Because we won't let you run away with your tail between your legs, this is how you've decided to punish us."

Severus actually moved. He slowly turned his head enough to see who was speaking to him. "I would think," his voice was rough, "that you would prefer to have me the furthest away as possible from your son and your grandson, no matter where my tail is."

Oddvar went over to sit on the bed facing Severus in his chair. "Your son, Severus. Your partner. Your family."

Severus shook his head. He returned his stare to the wall.

"Severus, you've got to let go. You can't continue punishing yourself for something you did as a child. If you were the only one to be suffering, that would be one thing, but now you're punishing your son, my son, people who care for you. Like Freya. Even Luc and Harry."

Severus refused to face him. "I was not a child!" he spat through gritted teeth.

Oddvar sighed loudly, exaggerating his exasperation. "Severus! You were seventeen years old! Seventeen when you were drawn to Voldemort. Damn it! Think of your own students! They may think seventeen is grown up, but how many of them do you know who can make an informed decision? Emotion plays such an enormous part in everything at that age. You know that!"

"It doesn't matter. People died because of what I did, seventeen or not."

"Yes, they did. And Moastifer died because of Alexander. Who is all of fourteen. Tell me, Severus, do you expect him to carry the guilt all of his life?"

Severus turned sharply, eyes livid and teeth bared. Finally! thought Oddvar.

"That is not the same thing. He had no choice in the matter. I did."

"Yes," agreed Oddvar, "yes, you did. And when you finally did make an informed decision, it was based on more than emotion. It was based on fact. And the decision you then took was the proper one. The right one. You were no longer seventeen but twenty. Older and wiser. Less emotional. You turned your back on Voldemort and you returned, not to proffer excuses for what you'd done, but ready to accept whatever punishment was meted out. Just because it wasn't Azkaban doesn't mean it wasn't punishment, Severus."

He leaned over and took Severus's cold hands in his. "The guilty cannot choose their punishment, Severus."

Severus shook his head.

Oddvar leaned closer. "Severus. What happened, happened. Nothing you can do will ever change that. We know..."

"NO! You don't know."

Oddvar straightened. "You think not?" He allowed his voice to grow severe. "Finnbogi is very thorough. He knows what you did. I know what you did. I know about the potions, their testing, their detailed effects on both Muggles and wizards."

Severus winced.

Oddvar continued, relentless. "Eirik has read these files and he knows. Freya read them after I did so she's known since you assumed responsibility for Alexander. From what they've told us, Moastifer made certain that both Alexander and Rhodri know what the files contain. In detail."

Severus eyes had grown more haunted with each name. Now he closed them as a shudder ran through him. Oddvar wanted to offer comfort but he wasn't done yet.

"Evan Ddu knows, not from reading files but from being present at your trial. Harry knows. According to Luc, Sirius Black told him in an attempt to get Harry to break off ties with you. So Luc knows and still she came. And why did she come, Severus? Why is it that Harry put his career on the line to be seen with you? Even before that, to come to your aid? Why did Evan and Rhiannon Ddu trust you with their precious grandson? Why did Eirik and Freya and Finnbogi prevent you from leaving? Why did the thought of your leaving him nearly break your son's heart while nothing Moastifer said or did to him had that affect on him?"

Severus shook his head as though denying all that.

"Why am I here, Severus?"

His hands clenched into fists, Severus screamed, "I DON'T KNOW!"

"Oh, Severus," Oddvar shook his head, "it's really quite easy. In spite of everything we know, we still care for you. We love you, Severus. Because all of us, including Alexander, understand. And knowing the man that you are, we found it easy to forgive." Severus looked almost terrified at the word. "Yes, Severus, we've all forgiven that boy. Why can't you?"

Severus shattered.

Eyes closed, shaking, his mouth opened and a sound of extreme pain came out of it.

Oddvar quickly rose and took the man into his arms. The noises Severus made were difficult to hear. Anguish, pain long denied, keening forth, finally unchecked.

Oddvar rocked the man side to side, holding on tightly as Severus sobbed into his shoulder. "Child, child. It's all right. Everything will be all right."

As Severus purged himself, Oddvar held him, crooning soft words of comfort he had offered his children when upset.

It took long minutes before Severus's sobs lessened in tone and gradually were replaced by hiccups. Oddvar reached into a pocket and found his handkerchief. He pulled back just enough to hold it against Severus's nose. "Blow," he said, as he had sometimes said to his children. "Again."

As Severus rested his head against Oddvar's chest, Oddvar tilted it up to examine his face. His eyes were red and swollen from weeping, his nose red and still dripping - he passed his handkerchief once more over the end - and then used a clean end to wipe the traces of tears off Severus's face.

Never pretty at best, a face only a mother could love, thought Oddvar. But she hadn't. No one had bothered to love the ugly child. Their loss, he concluded as he found a dry spot on his handkerchief.

"Blow again, child."

And Severus did. Oddvar put his handkerchief back into his pocket. He looked to see if he had missed anything. A final tear was slowly making its way from the outside of an eye, beginning a trail downward. He wiped it away with his thumb.

Holding Severus against him with one hand as the other stroked the hair off his face, Oddvar waited until the hitching breath smoothed out before confiding, "I think you should know that I wasn't pleased when Inga left Alexander in your care. Not because of your past, but because you had no experience of parenting. Never mind the reason why, that's not important. But you know, she was right about you. Inga insisted that you would make a very good parent if given a chance. And you have, Severus. You have become the best father I could ever have wished for my grandson. And, you know," he dropped a kiss on the dark head, "once you decide to put Eirik out of his misery, you will make me a very good son."

Severus's voice was raw, tired. "How can you say that?"

Oddvar patted a slumped shoulder. "Because it's true."

Severus shook his head slightly. "And what will your other children have to say about it?"

Oddvar smiled. "Not much. And too much. But it will be all right, Severus. You see, you'll be the only Potions Master in the family."

He frowned, obviously not understanding and too emotionally exhausted to try. "And?"

"And you'll find that you're soon going to have to deal with requests for potions of all kinds, not just Wolfsbane. But you'll have to learn to barter, lad."

Severus tilted his head back enough so that Oddvar could see that a kind of tired curiosity was replacing the blankness in his eyes. "Barter?"

Oddvar nodded. "Like Eirik does. He exchanges paintings - mainly portraits - for whatever he needs or wants from his siblings. He did Magrit's twins for a winter's stay at her house in Crete. No, that was two winters, one for each twin. He did Gustav's father-in-law in return for the architectural drawings for his house and studio."

"Eirik has a house?"

Oddvar nodded. "And studio. On the tip of a small peninsula near Harkmark. Great light. Very nice in the summer time. Less so in the winter when the winds blow off the Skagerrak. Which is when he heads for warmer climates."

Severus was silent for a while. Oddvar said nothing, wondering where his thoughts were taking him. "And what will you have me barter with you?"

Oddvar nodded. "Once, you asked me something like that. Do you remember? You wanted to know what my support was going to cost you."

Severus pulled away. He sat back on the edge of his chair. He sighed tiredly. "Yes, I remember."

Oddvar sat down on the bed. He knew Severus was bracing himself for the worst. It would take time for him to stop doing that. "Do you remember, about three years back, when there was a bit of a brouhaha between the Goblins of Mongolia and of Northern China?"

Not what Severus was expecting. Oddvar resisted the urge to smile as his face scrunched up, trying to jump from what had just happened to goblins in the Far Orient. "No, I don't seem to remember that."

"Probably considered too minor or too foreign for the Daily Prophet to report. It was at a Friendship Banquet. The Mongolians swore someone had slipped some potion into their fermented yak's milk. They blamed the Northern Chinese who swore that, even if there had been a potion, it would have to be one that was far more sophisticated than anything they could produce with the ingredients found in their region."

Oddvar shook his head at the memories. "Nearly started another war. It took me five days of mediation to get them to lay down their arms. If I'd had you at my disposition, it would have a lot easier. I would have called you in and you could have discovered what the hell - if anything - had been added to their fermented yak's milk, and I would have had to drink a lot less of the damn stuff. Or at least have someone with me to share that delightful experience."

Severus scoffed as he shook his head slowly. "I'm no diplomat, Oddvar."

Oddvar smiled. "You don't have to be. You're The Expert. Just so long as you remember to insult both sides equally, there won't be any problems. In turn, Severus, you'll get to play with all sorts of new ingredients and potions. And I think you'll like that kind of barter."

He stood up. "Severus, like Eirik, I'm willing to wait for your decision to join us. But do try to hurry the process up a little, won't you?" He took the sting away with a kiss to Severus's forehead.

When he closed the door behind him, Oddvar found a discouraged-looking Eirik sitting on the top step of the stairs. "I couldn't get through to him."

Oddvar shrugged. "Sometimes a child is in need of a parent, Eirik. Even in a good relationship, there are times that a partner must make parental decisions for the other, in spite of the other." He held out his arms and hugged his son. "Severus is tired. Go be a parent, my son."

Alexander was sitting scrunched up in his father's chair when Bestefar joined them in the library.

Freya was sitting on the arm, her hands on his shoulders, offering comfort. They'd heard the sounds of crying from upstairs and Alexander was terrified that his grandfather was coming to tell him that his father was seriously ill.

Instead, he smiled at him. "It's going to be all right, Alexander. Your father may need a few weeks to recover from all this, but he'll be all right."

He opened up his arms and Alexander went into them, feeling the comfortable strength and security.

"You need to understand, Alexander, that waiting is far more stressful on a person than the living of an adventure. You knew where you were and that you and Rhodri were well, but we didn't."

Alexander looked up from where he'd buried his face in his grandfather's shoulder. "But you're not acting as papa is."

Oddvar shook his head. "No, that's true." He sat Alexander back in the chair and then himself on the arm of the couch. "Alexander..."

Alexander was taken aback: Bestefar seemed to be looking for words. That never happened: his grandfather had words for all occasions!

"Alexander, do you know that you are the very first person in your father's life to love him?"

Alexander was stunned. "The first?"

Bestefar nodded sadly.

Alexander thought a moment. "Is that because he's an orphan?"

Freya's hands tightened on his shoulders. He looked up at her. "What?"

Bestefar and Freya shared one of those looks that Alexander knew meant they were making a decision about something.

Bestefar leaned over and took Alexander's hands in his. "Alexander, your father's parents are very much alive. Both of them. They... They just never cared enough. They never wanted to have anything to do with him."

Alexander couldn't believe what he was hearing. "But... Not want... I don't understand. There's nothing wrong with papa. Why..."

Bestefar gripped his hands a little more tightly. "No, there is absolutely nothing wrong with your papa. The problem lies with them. They have no love in them. And they surround themselves with people who have no ability to love. And though this is not a nice thing to say, the best thing that happened to your papa - before you - was his finally getting to be old enough to go to Hogwarts and away from them.

"But because of the way he's been brought up, he doesn't think he deserves to be loved. You taught him differently. And he loves you so very much that he thought leaving you..."

"That he thought by leaving me he would keep me safe." Alexander nodded. Well, that made more sense. "I thought maybe the Crucio..."

Freya smiled at him. "That probably also had something to do with it, but not because he suffered it. Because he saw you undergo it for the second time. The pain of your child is your pain, Alexander. And your father knows all too well what Crucio feels like. And he was horrified that you had to endure it, even in wolf form."

"And," continued Bestefar, "your papa is tired. He's had to make a lot of changes in his life in recent months and change is not all that easy for him. He's gone from having only himself to think of to having all of us in his life. He's used to dealing only with his thoughts and feelings, and now he has all these people who care for him and he doesn't yet understand that love has no limits."

He patted Alexander on the knee. "But he's learning. He's learning that none of us intend to go away and leave him alone again. That we like him. That's he's a good man."

Alexander felt his feathers ruffling. "Of course he's a good man. He's more than just a good man. Rhodri called him a hero!"

Bestefar smiled. "Yes, he is. But he doesn't see it that way. We'll have to teach him to see life a little differently."

Ketil and Orm suddenly appeared: Ketil was wearing his angry face while Orm was beaming. "Master Eirik says to say to Master Alexander to pack. We is going home to Light's Delight!"

Alexander saw another of those looks between Bestefar and Freya.

"Ketil?" asked Freya.

"Sir is making a mess, Mistress!" Ketil wrung his hands, truly distressed. "He is not folding and he is not rolling. He is just tossing all into Master's trunk. And he is not listening when Master is saying no!"

Orm couldn't stop the grin, even though he too now looked slightly shocked. "All true, Mistress. Master never packs. It is embarrassing." Then he offered. "But I is to help Master Alexander pack. Master says to bring everything, even books for Hogwarts."

Alexander looked from the house elves to the adults. "I've never been to Light's Delight."

"Well," grinned his grandfather, "you're in for a treat. Better go pack. When Eirik's on a tear, nothing gets in his way."

Freya stood up. "Orm, I'll help Alexander. You should pack Eirik's things, you best know how to do that. Ketil..."

"Ketil," interrupted Bestefar, "go pack your Mistress's things for a long visit."

Before Freya could say anything, Bestefar added. "You need to see what you're getting into, before you can make an informed decision, my dear Freya of the Bright Eyes."

Alexander had another surprise in this day of surprises: he saw Freya blush!

Light's Delight was stone and glass and wood.

The house had been built in the alcove of rising cliff so that it was protected from the winds that blew off the Skagerrak. Off to a side was a small barnlike outbuilding most of whose roof and two walls were mainly glass so that light always filled it. Eirik's studio.

Freya and Oddvar had come with them so that Alexander had someone with whom to apparate, as Eirik had taken Severus with him.

When Eirik had ordered him to sit on his arse and behave himself, the bloody man had silently obeyed. Eirik had been torn between feeling relieved something was finally happening and worried about Severus allowing him to take control of his life without even a minimal amount of protest.

Once they had arrived, Oddvar took hold of Freya's hand and, with a rather wicked grin, had gone off with her.

Eirik suddenly found that he could laugh after all. Alexander looked at him and then, eyes wide open as he understood what was going on, snickered. Severus, poor man, only looked from one of them to the other, not getting the joke.

Eirik was proud of his home. He had had many arguments with Gustav's father-in-law as to what he wanted. Sigwulf Nansen kept telling him he was crazy, but had finally seen the house as a challenge and Eirik had gotten what he'd wanted.

The house was large, three storeys, far larger than one person needed. But Eirik liked space and needed it to work. Just because he had a studio didn't mean he didn't work in the house.

It was solidly based in stone, the whole first storey, with the rest of it either wood or glass. In fact, the entire south side was glassed so that light was part of the structure. The rooms were large, open not only inside, but also to the outside. The first floor opened onto the ground level, but the second was decked so that the windows which slid open allowed the rooms to seem even larger. The entire top floor was open attic with skylights, which had been set up for guests, and which Eirik now offered to Alexander.

The boy walked around the space, eyes planning.

"I thought," said Eirik, "that if you decide to have guests, there's more than enough room here to house several of you. The north window opens onto the top of the back cliff, which makes it ideal for flying out." He pointed to his old broom that stood in a corner. "The south is a little too close to seaside. There the winds are tricky. They depend too much on how the sea's acting. Until you get to know them well, and can read the sea properly, I'd like you to fly out of the north window."

Alexander's eyes gleamed at him. Eirik knew that he'd unintentionally offered the boy a challenge. He groaned pitifully. "Please, Alexander, give me time to get used to this parenting stuff."

Alexander sighed dramatically. "All right. But you have to promise to teach me to read the sea and winds."

Eirik's bedroom took up a good half of the second storey. He'd left Severus there with Orm who was happily unpacking their things. He slouched in the doorway watching Severus looking out of the glassed wall, onto the sea and sky. Orm kept an eye on him as he separated the closet into two halves, hanging up Severus's suits, robes and Muggle clothing.

Severus finally turned around to stare at the large bed that was the centre piece of the room. It was a massive yet sleek four poster made of light wood, carved with wolves of all kinds. A bed carved to order by one of his brothers-in-law, who had bartered it for a painting of his champion hippogriff stud.

"I had just gotten the bed when we met. No one has ever slept in it other than me."

Severus turned to face him. "Eirik..."

Eirik moved away from the doorway. Orm, he noticed, had left them.

"Severus. I love you very much. And though you may not think so, I do understand. Maybe not to the depth that you endured, but Alexander's being taken hurt me. He's more than my nephew. He's your child and that makes him doubly precious."

He stopped in front of Severus, raised a hand to brush a lock of hair off his exhausted lover's face. "And I think I understand some of what you feel about what you did all those years ago. I wish I had known you then, but we can't go back. Neither one of us. We can only move forward. I want to move forward with you, Severus."

Eirik cocked his head, wondering just how much Severus wanted to join him.

"I think father is right. That for the next little while, you need someone to make the everyday decisions for you while you take the time to figure out what it is you want."

Severus looked as though he was going to protest, but he said nothing. Eirik took him by the hand. "Come on, I'll show you the rest of the house and the studio. I think I should point out just what an honour that is. Luc's been the only other invited guest in it once I set it up."

They were outside, on the path leading to the studio when they heard a whoop over their heads. Eirik looked up and saw that Alexander was holding to his end of the bargain: he had flown out of the north window. Eirik grinned at the boy's loops and barreling. One of the reasons he'd picked this part of the country to build in was the fact that its rockiness didn't appeal to Muggles. Another was the view. Watching Alexander as he turned to face the sea, listening to his awed "Wow!", he knew that he wasn't the only one to appreciate that factor of his home.

By evening, Severus was asleep on the long couch that faced the fireplace in the living room. Eirik had just let him be since they'd toured the studio, but he was being watched.

Orm had called in a couple of his brothers to help with the enlarged household and Eirik had assigned Vigfus to Severus.

Vigfus was a bit of an embarrassment to Orm's family. Serious, a reader, self-educated in matters that most house elves considered to be none of their business. A very quiet elf who considered before he spoke. Who had arrived morose but then actually perked up when Eirik had explained that Severus was a Potions Master.

"Master-to-be is not a politician?"

Eirik had hidden his grin. "No, he's not. Not a lawyer, not a diplomat. And he has a huge library which Ketil is going to send over as soon as he can."

"Master has a library!"

Eirik had been certain he'd seen tears in Vigfus's eyes. "I think most of them will fit into the library Nansen insisted I needed to balance the house." The room was large, far larger than he had needed. His own books barely filled one wall.

Then Eirik hadn't resisted adding, "And we're going to need to build a laboratory for him. Gustav's father-in-law wants his wife painted. We'll get him to design the best lab ever. I'm certain that Severus will need someone to help him at times..."

He hadn't gotten any further. Vigfus had thrown himself onto Eirik, sobbing his heart out. "Oh, Sir! Orm has told us of your kindness, but to do this for Vigfus..."

So Vigfus was silently keeping a reverential eye on his new Master. Eirik assumed that Orm had kept his family appraised of the goings-on at Hillswick and felt that he needn't had to explain why it was important to keep an eye on Severus.

He only hoped Severus would take to the house elf as Vigfus had taken to him.

And while Severus was sleeping, Eirik asked Alexander to join him outside. There were things, he said, they needed to discuss.

That first morning, after he'd spent the night in Eirik's bed, his lover's arms around him, Severus awoke to find a very pensive house elf watching him.

"Ah, Master is awake. Master's shower is ready."

For some reason, he couldn't find the energy to protest so he got up and took a shower under the intense gaze of this elf who had introduced himself as Vigfus. Who had his clothes laid out for him when he came out of the shower. It had been easier to don them then to indicate that he wasn't really interested in getting dressed.

The elf slid the windows open for him and he went out, following the elf to the table set up on the deck, in the shadowed side.

"Papa, you're up!"

Alexander's enthusiastic hug suddenly made him aware of what he had been pushing away.

Eirik smiled at him and nodded to the house elf. "I see that Vigfus has introduced himself. Ketil decided to remain at the house in Hillswick."

And that was all the explanation he got.

The elf was always near-by, showing up with small trays of food, watching him with disappointed eyes when he refused or when he only ate a little. Finally he made an effort because he found he didn't want to see that same expression appear in Eirik's or Alexander's eyes when he only pretended to eat.

And he slept. Without any potion or spell. He slept in the chair out on the deck, on the couch in the living room. The third day, he even slept on the grass when Eirik and Alexander asked him...

No, now that he thought about it, they hadn't asked, they'd merely told him that he was accompanying them to the cove where the water actually warmed enough for swimming. He had refused to join them but Alexander's scream of "This is warm?" had given him a sense of vindication in his decision. Especially as bathing suits of any kind had turned out to be optional.

He woke to find that Vigfus had set up an umbrella-thing over him so that the sun wouldn't burn him. And he'd been there with another of those trays of food. This time he found he was actually hungry and ate everything offered, to Vigfus's great delight.

That evening, he found himself walking around the house, truly seeing it.

He didn't think he imagined the relieved looks shared between his lover and his son.

They gave him two more days before they hit him with the next change in his life.

He was sitting on the hillside, watching Eirik come out of the studio. The day was hot and all Eirik wore was a pair of jeans cut off mid-thigh. There were splatters of paint on his body which meant he was painting again. Luc, thought Severus, would be happy.

Severus had to admit that Eirik looked as though he wasn't feeling the heat. Maybe wearing his suit and robe was a bit extreme in this temperature, he moped. Well, he had only himself to blame for the sweat running down his ribs: Vigfus had offered him the choice of his regular garb or the loose shirt and short jeans that Alexander and Eirik were wearing. Maybe tomorrow, he would try the looser, cooler selection. It wasn't as though he needed to project an image here. They all knew him for what he was: a crazy old coot!

He preferred to think of himself that way than as a sorry son of a bitch who was wallowing in self pity and making everyone around him miserable with his behaviour.

All right, he had needed to think a lot about what Oddvar had said. About how he'd hurt the others. That had taken a leap of faith on his part. That they really did care enough about him. To keep him around. To consider him a friend.

To have forgiven him for something he couldn't forgive himself.

Did he really want to live without Alexander in his life? Watching him go through life from afar? Never again being a part of his life?

And what about Eirik? Who was patiently putting up with his moodiness and moroseness. Who was willing to share that bed of his with a lover who barely managed a morning erection.

Severus leaned forward, hugging his knees to his chest.

Did he want to go back to that so-called life he'd led before either of them had appeared in his life?

Alone. In his dungeon.

Without them.

Without Freya and Oddvar. Without the friendship of Harry and Luc and the Ddus.

Oddvar had told him that a prisoner couldn't choose his punishment. That Azkaban wasn't the only punishment.

If he allowed himself to think Oddvar was right...

The trial judge had assigned him to Dumbledore until he was no longer of any use. Until the battle against the Dark Forces of Voldemort had been won.

He propped his chin on his knees. Well, Voldemort had been defeated. And he, Severus Snape, was no longer of any use to Dumbledore. Once he'd made it clear to Lupin that he had no intentions of going back to Hogwarts, there had been no further communication from Dumbledore. None at all.

And yes, he had been indirectly responsible for the death of Haney Moastifer's brother. It had been his potions which had been used. But Voldemort had kept it from him that his creations were being used on wizards as well as Muggles. He'd witnessed his potions being used on Muggles twice. After that he'd remained in his lab and had only heard of their effects second hand and, yes, it had been his failing that he hadn't cared enough... Bloody hell! That he hadn't had the guts to protest.

He looked up as Alexander let out a whoop as he caught an updraft with his broomstick. Eirik was standing at the edge of the cliff, watching him, shouting instructions of some kind.

Seventeen. He'd only been seventeen. And so starved for someone to approve of him.

His son would never hunger that way.

He had been ready and willing to forgive Alexander for killing him in wolf form. Had Moastifer succeeded, he would be dead and Alexander would be struggling with the fact that he had killed his father. He didn't wish that burden of conscience on his son.

Yes, the boy he had been had made mistakes, but he had also paid for them. Over twenty years' worth of paying. His freedom had been severely restricted. Other than that one time, his only forays out into the world had been to Voldemort and his chastisements.

The man he was now would never forget.

Never to his dying day.

Was that enough?

He had been staring at the sea for some time, his eyes squinting against the glare of the afternoon sun, when Alexander came to sit next to him.

"Papa."

Severus looked at his so very serious son. What...

"Yes, Alexander."

"Papa, I need to talk with you about something."

Severus rested his cheek back on his knees, holding onto his legs tightly. Maybe Oddvar had been wrong after all. Maybe his son had found that... No, he wasn't going to presume.

"About what, Alexander."

Alexander took a deep breath and it all came out.

How, much as Alexander loved the house in Hillswick, he thought it might be better to offer it to...say, Bera Hillswick, for the next few years. She would take good care of it for him. She certainly could use the lab space. And Freya and Bera liked each other. Freya could still use it as her base. She'd only been remaining at the house to take care of his mother, and then them. Not like he had any need of the house. He would be at Hogwarts for most of the year for the next four years and then...who knew where?

How he would be more than pleased to spend his summers here in Harkmark with his family. He would miss his Hillswick cousins, but then they were going off to school in Lillehammer and to careers away from Hillswick and so was he. That he could certainly visit some of them for part of the summer if he and they so felt. Or they could come here: there was more than enough room.

About how - and he approached this cautiously, his eyes glued to Severus's, watching for any reaction - his, Severus's, presence in Britain irritated certain people. How it might be better if he didn't do that.

Severus let him wind down, not having said a word. He was stunned. Completely.

"Alexander..."

"Papa." Alexander reached out and gripped his hand. "Truly, papa, I think it would be best. This way, I won't worry about you while I'm at school."

"Worry about me?" Severus straightened. "Why?"

Alexander suddenly looked very adult, very parental - Severus was surprised by that thought. "You think I don't worry about you, papa? I mean, we both know that some people weren't pleased that all that happened to you was Banishment. I worry that they might find other reasons to come after you."

"Alex..."

"And I want you to be happy, papa. I mean the way you were when Rhodri and I arrived from school. You were really happy then, papa, and I want you to be happy like that again. And I think that if we stay in Hillswick, you'll worry too much to be happy."

"A..."

"And," interrupted Alexander, "I think that Onkel Eirik is the right partner for you and I'm afraid that you're going to send him away. He makes you very happy, papa. And if he's with you, I know I won't have to worry about you. He loves you and he'll take good care of you."

Severus stared at this child who was rearranging his life for him. And all he could think of saying was, "What about Christmas holidays? Won't you want to spend them in your home?"

Alexander shook his head, "Papa, you're my home. As long as you're around, I'll spend my holidays anywhere."

Severus felt himself choke up. "Oh, Alexander..."

His son grinned suddenly. "Besides, Onkel Eirik says those holidays are a great way of showing me the world. The warm places in the world. Well, warmer, anyways. Luc has invited us to join her in New York for the holidays this year. She wants Onkel Eirik to meet some people and she's fixed it with Master Throckmorton...he's the Potions Master at some school she went to...seems he publishes a lot and she says that he's looking forward to spending time with you...so you see you won't be bored while Onkel Eirik talks Art. And she says that maybe Geoff can join us so that the two of us could do things together. Like going to see Muggle movies. Seems there's this saga called Lord of the Something that she thinks we'll really enjoy seeing and that we can get to see all three movies and..."

Severus swallowed tears and laughter and held up his hand. "Enough. Let me think a little about all this, please, Alexander."

"At least give him time to breathe." Eirik dropped down onto the grass next to Severus.

Alexander grinned. "I'll see about supper, shall I?" And he left them alone.

Severus shook his head, trying to make sense of everything Alexander had told him. It would have been easier if Eirik hadn't stretched out next to him, eyes closed. Severus wanted to challenge him on all these changes that seemed to have been discussed and decided without his participation.

All he felt was hunger.

Hunger for this man. Damn it! He'd spent most of his life satisfied with his hand. He'd had Eirik in his bed for what, six, seven months? He'd been satisfied in so many ways. Why was it never enough?

"Why are you glaring at me that way?"

"How do you know I'm glaring?" Even Severus could hear the irritability in his voice. Which went up a notch when all Eirik did was smile.

"I'm taking Alexander to Ollivander's tomorrow. He wants to get his new wand from the same maker as yours. And we're picking out his new broom at the same time. Anything you want from Diagon Alley?"

"Why don't you tell me?" he growled. "It seems, between you and Alexander, you've decided everything else about my life."

Eirik smiled. "Yes, I guess we have. Well, the only thing you need to do is lie back and enjoy it."

Severus crossed his arms and propped them on his knees, dropped his chin onto them. He knew he sounded petulant when he muttered, "Really? It's been so long I doubt I can remember how that feels."

Eirik had the presence of mind not to laugh aloud though Severus did notice that his shoulders shook.

`My very dear Severus,'

Severus shook his head. The latest owl had delivered several letters for him. This one was from Minerva McGonagall. He wondered at the salutation. Her very dear Severus. Would wonders never cease!

They were in the library, he and Vigfus, unpacking and shelving the books Ketil had sent over. Vigfus was handling the books with a reverence that bordered on worship. Severus sighed. Even the house elf chosen for him by the others was more than he could have hoped for. Not only did Vigfus read, he could write with a fairly clear hand.

`Master Finnbogi came to see me about this summer's, well, I shall call it adventure as that is the term he used. Frankly, I doubt that it's the word you would use. Just as I am certain that it is the perfect one from the boys' points of view.

First of all, I am overjoyed that both boys came through it with barely a scratch. That's according to Master Finnbogi. I shall, of course, be more confident of that assessment when I see them with my very own eyes.

He also indicated that the matter is to be classified and that I was being informed, as were Professor Sun and Poppy, because of our roles in the boys' lives. He felt that we should all know in case there was some delayed response to the kidnapping.

Rest assured that Poppy, Yat...'

Severus shook his head. So now it was Yat. It seemed that his replacement was settling in quite well.

Loud screaming had him looking out the wall that was window to see Alexander and his cousins attempting to fly a loop in formation. Thankfully, Eirik was outside, keeping an eye on them all.

They were all going to Oddvar's 136th birthday celebration and Eirik had invited these Brekke cousins to keep Alexander company the last days before the party and his leaving for Hogwarts. The five visitors were all housed in Alexander's bedroom and the noise never stopped. One of the cousins had brought his collection of "The Dread" which he assured Severus was indeed music. Severus didn't see it that way, but Eirik had only shrugged and cast a silencing spell on their room.

Not that there was a need to keep any sounds from drifting out, he groused to himself. They had lain in that bed, cuddled together - chastely - since they'd gotten here, almost three weeks ago. He'd tried to initiate something more the other night only to have Eirik turn him around and spoon behind him in the manner in which they had been sleeping of late.

`Rest assure that Poppy, Yat and I will be keeping a close watch on both boys and will inform you immediately should there indeed be any repercussions.

Severus, I am so very sorry this happened. Yat was livid when Master Finnbogi informed us. He has added some specialized wards to the school and its grounds so that should certain people decide to surprise us with a visit, well, his cousin may find that he has company in his swamp!'

Sun Yat-Sun's letter was short and to the point.

`Snape,

I've taken care to see that the school will not be accessible to any with Auror training, unless by invitation.

I understand that Kynan will be told. I'll have a talk with him about letting me know if the boys have nightmares or if he senses any problems.

I've written to Ddu about this as well.

Sun'

Oddvar's letter was also short.

`Severus,

Thank you for the gift of Alexander's portrait that Eirik sent in both your names. It is all that more precious these days.

I expect by the time you get here for my celebration that you will be most desirous of peace and quiet. Helga's boys are a delight, but I sincerely believe they maintain their high energy levels by depleting that of those about them. And Thorfin's two are no easier. Still the family was very pleased with this, what they call another sign of your positive influence on Eirik. He's never had any of the boys over to Light's Delight before. Only Magrit's twin girls have had that privilege. And the girls have been lording it over everybody.

I hope you have been giving some thought to what we discussed that last day in Hillswick.'

And he'd signed it: your loving father-in-law to be?

Severus stood up and went to see how the boys were succeeding in this plan of theirs to fly in formation over the celebration, scattering... What was it they were going to scatter? Whatever they had decided had sent Eirik into gales of laughter.

Severus sighed. He had the feeling that he should be resuming his role of parent where this plan was concerned. Otherwise the family might think he wasn't holding his part of the bargain of being a sobering influence on Eirik.

He watched as a seventh broom joined the six in the air, leading them in a swooping loop with a twirl.

Damn the family, he thought. His sobriety would have to be enough.

They all flew to Oddvar Brekke's homestead with the boys taking advantage of the time to practice this formation thing of theirs. Severus had to admit that it was quite impressive.

Freya was among those waiting for them when they landed.

She hugged Alexander and then passed him on to his grandfather. Eirik got a kiss on the cheek and a quick hug. Severus got a thorough once-over before she stepped up and put her arms around him.

"Severus," she murmured, "welcome back."

Oddvar also looked him over with a discerning eye and then smiled at him. "So, you've survived the barbarian horde, have you?"

Severus looked to the boys who were greeting their parents and siblings loudly with whoops and voices battling for their attention. "They're no worse than the third years after their first visit to Hogsmeade."

Oddvar grinned. "Very diplomatic of you, Severus."

Oddvar's celebration went well. On the whole.

Most of the family was there. Many of the Coven had come and used the time to catch up on the lives of their grown children and of their children.

Severus made himself pay more careful attention. He began putting names to faces and remembering who belonged to whom.

He was cornered that first evening by Eirik's mother. Hildigunn Neilsen Brekke was a slight woman with eyes that seemed to be off into another world. Severus frankly wondered if she weren't under the influence of something or other. She didn't once ask him about his relationship with Eirik but seemed only interested in his views on Egyptian mythology, about which she was writing a paper. Since Severus had no real views on the subject, their talk was not of long duration.

Still, when she rose to leave him, she patted his hand and her eyes were suddenly very focused. "Bill Weasley told me that you were a bastard in the classroom, but it was only after he left Hogwarts that he realized just how good you were and how much more he knew about potions than his colleagues. He told me that this knowledge has come in very handy in several instances, especially the medical potions you insisted they learn. He said that, looking back on his years at Hogwarts, he discovered - much to his surprise - that he had great respect for you."

Her smile was reflected in her eyes.

"I've always been very fond of Alexander. He's a very lovely boy. But I must also admit that I've wondered where he'd come by his spine. Inga was sweet but too frail to have one."

Another of the Coven cornered him when he went to inspect...well, hide in Oddvar's library. The Finnish wife. Another werewolf. A judge.

She was more focused than Hildigunn and more knowledgeable about his connection to Voldemort. By the time Oddvar rescued him, he had great appreciation for her abilities as an interrogator.

"What did Aud quiz you on?"

Severus felt his eyebrow rise. "Quiz? If that was a quiz, I would hate to have her question me at trial."

Oddvar grinned. "She's brilliant." Then he shrugged. "But impossible to live with. I suppose she wanted to know about Voldemort. There is a possible resurgence of some Dark Force in the far North. She's determined to stop it before it gets anywhere nearly as strong as Voldemort."

By morning and breakfast, Severus had an idea of which wife was kind, which disinterested, which to avoid for whatever reason. He also had a sense of which of Eirik's siblings he wouldn't be able to tolerate, and which he would.

He met Magrit, Aud's daughter, and her seven year old twins. The girls were quite vocal in their envy of Alexander and his new living quarters. Magrit was very pregnant and offered Eirik another two winters in Crete to paint this set of twins after they were born. And could he paint them with her husband's favourite crups?

"Babies and puppies, what did I tell you, Riky."

Severus had to bite his lip to keep from laughing aloud at Eirik's expression of complete disgust.

"Luc!" Eirik snapped. "Were you the one who put that idea into her mind?"

Magrit patted her stomach as she laughed. "No, seriously, Eirik. Costa would so like to have his sons and his crups immortalized together in a Northlander."

Eirik scoffed. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Magrit. I do not paint," and he glared at Luc who had come to take Severus's arm, "babies and puppies!"

"Not even for a winter in Rome?"

Eirik turned his glare onto his sibling. "Rome? What the hell are you talking about?"

Magrit smiled placidly. "Costa is taking up a posting in Rome in the new year. He's told me to offer you a villa in the hills behind Rome for the winter the boys are three so you can paint them, plus two other winters of your choice at his family's villa in Crete."

Luc tugged at Severus until he bent his head. "Bet you he settles for two in Rome as well as two in Crete."

Severus turned his head and whispered back. "Just how hard is he going to be to live with while he's painting babies and puppies?"

And Luc laughed.

Eirik growled at her, "What are you doing here?"

Luc ignored the tone and kissed his cheek. "I was invited by your so charming father. Harry will be joining us as soon as he can. His Beauxbatons came back early for some Quidditch training and they're playing an exhibition match in North Africa."

Gustav's father-in-law had also been invited. And that's when Severus discovered that, while he'd been attending conferences in Milano, Eirik had been doing more than sketching. Sigwulf Nansen was a Danish werewolf and prize-winning architect. He arrived with a scroll of plans for a laboratory to be built behind and separate from Eirik's studio.

"Your bloody painter thinks that by going around asking Potion Masters what their idea of the perfect lab would be and then handing me their fantasies, I should be able to put something together for you. Idiot doesn't understand that labs are like studios: each has to satisfy the peculiarities of its user. He should know that," he growled, in a rumbling voice. "Drove me bloody crazy with his specifications!"

He and Severus were in Oddvar's library, with the door firmly shut. Nansen had been very definite on their not being interrupted. He rolled out the scroll and Severus was amazed to see a variety of drawings which he recognized were done in Eirik's hand.

"Not much practicality to these," snarled the architect. "Now you seem to be a man of good sense, so take a look at this." And he rolled out another scroll, this time of a clear, detailed building that was definitely not Eirik's work.

"Seems to me that your lab needs three specific areas: one for dangerous and delicate work. That's why I've enclosed this section. And then you need decent storage space. Eirik said that you like to keep completed potions away from ingredients. I thought these two pantries. Lots of room for shelving and drawers. Notice the cupboards under the every-day work counters and tables? For implements. Clean-up area is separate to avoid any contamination. Ventilating system is the latest available. With a few of my modifications. Ditto for lighting. And I'm thinking of incorporating some security wards and spells in the fabric of the building itself. We can discuss those later. Of course you'll want to add your own to the entire construction after it's completed. Wouldn't do to have the children accidentally wander in. Or to offer too much temptation to the older ones."

Severus finally realized that his mouth was still open. He shut it. He took a deep breath and another look at the plans. "It's rather large, isn't it?"

Nansen lit a cheroot and blew the smoke away. "Oddvar seemed to think that you were going to need a couple of assistants for some of the work he intends sending your way. And Eirik thought that you might like to take on a couple of apprentices. He wants me to add a small cottage to the property, large enough to comfortably house a couple of people at a time."

Severus found a chair and drew it up: he sat down. He stopped himself from reaching for the plans. "What is it that you want in barter from me?"

Nansen puffed furiously on his cheroot and then walked out of the cloud of smoke he'd created to go round the desk and stare at Severus.

"Eirik is going to paint my wife for me in exchange for the plans. He's made it clear, however, that particular details have to be worked out between the two of us." He dropped into a chair: he looked like the elder werewolf he was. A big, brawny man, with a mass of grey hair and eyes that were definitely wolfish.

"You invented the Wolfsbane."

Severus went to shrug that away as he always did, but something told him that his attempt at modesty was not going to go over well. "Yes."

"You published the formula."

Severus nodded.

"So that it was available to anyone who wanted it."

Again Severus nodded, wondering at the point of all this.

"You could have sold it to some maker of products and made a fortune. After all, though werewolves are not as plentiful as we once were, there are still a goodly number of us around."

Severus didn't move.

"I use your potion. I have a daughter who loves playing around with things like that. She goes to Lillehammer. Her last year. Got into that specialized class they have for bright ones."

Sigwulf Nansen took another puff of his cheroot. "Every month I thank you for your generosity of spirit, Snape. There really is no need of barter between us. However, you have a son who may one day need some plans of his own, for whatever reason. I will barter you those for your going to Lillehammer and spending a few days with Lizabeth's class."

Severus looked at his hands. "How many is a few?"

Sigwulf frowned. "Well, let's just say as many as you can tolerate. Will that do?"

Severus smiled. "I'm not known for my tolerance. Nor my patience. But I will agree to this barter. I've been asked to visit Lillehammer but for various reasons I've put it off. This will please Professor Thorvald as well as your daughter."

Sigwulf nodded. "Fair enough." He stood up and went back to the plans. "Now, let's see how crazy you're going to drive me with your demands. Let's start with the basic layout."

That night, in Eirik's old bedroom, in their chaste bed, Severus confronted Eirik about the lab.

"Look," said his erstwhile lover, "I have my studio. Alexander has more than enough room upstairs for whatever he wants to do for some years. You need a workplace. Nansen is the best architect around. Hell, Severus, I was going to paint his wife anyways. She's a sweetheart and she deserves it just for putting up with the old goat for all the years she has. Look, if it's the cost of building..."

"No, it is not the cost of building. Nansen's estimate is well within my means. Merlin knows, more galleons go into my vault than ever come out. It's just..."

"Just that this is another decision into which you haven't had any input."

Severus folded his arms under his head and sighed. "Yes, well, I admit that I've had other things on my mind lately."

Eirik propped himself up on an elbow. "You needed the time, Severus. But I like the fact that all this is irritating you. It's a good sign that maybe you've come to a conclusion in your own mind about those other things."

And with that, he rolled over and was soon snoring softly.

Severus grimaced at the nightshirt-covered back. Eirik had started wearing nightshirts after he had moved them to Light's Delight. Orm had snickered the first time he'd had to lay it out on their bed.

Severus signed, punched his pillow, and tried to find a comfortable position to sleep in.

All in all, he thought, the term irritating was a little too tame.

In fact, the whole thing was beginning to edge into the bloody frustrating!

Severus watched Oddvar blow out the candles on his cake helped by his youngest children and his grandchildren and wondered if Alexander's children would help him blow out his when..if he reached this age.

Harry and Luc were beside Severus, holding on to each other laughing as the youngest of Oddvar's children, who was three, helped himself to a handful of icing and shoved it into his mouth while his father pretended not to see.

Alexander was with Helga's boys. Severus had to admit that he admired the woman. Anything the boys did she countered with an impressive sang-froid that left him wondering how she would have dealt with his Slytherins at their worst. Probably barely turned a hair.

She certainly didn't react much - unlike Thorfin's wife - when the boys flew formation and scattered those below with a pixie dust mixture which caused everyone's voices to rise several octaves for over an hour.

Severus wondered if the producer of the dust had been his son. He decided he really didn't want to know.

He finally found Eirik in a far corner, away from the fall-out, laughing his head off. He was more than delighted to toss a handful of the dust that he'd collected over Eirik's head. Listening to Eirik's laughter rise to beyond sqeakiness was very satisfying indeed.

He met Lizabeth Nansen and was pleasantly surprised by the intelligent questions she asked. She squealed with delight - well, they were all still squealing at that point - when he told her that he would be accepting Thorvald's invitation to spend some time at Lillehammer. Sigwulf Nansen beamed at her happiness and offered Severus a cheroot.

The next morning, after a private goodbye, Alexander left for Hogwarts. Freya went with him as she wanted to meet with Poppy Pomfrey about a manual the two medi-witches were putting together, for new parents, dealing with every day bumps and bruises. Oddvar seemed loath to let her go, but she kissed him on the cheek and then patted it. Alexander was still snickering when they apparated.

Luc was accompanying Harry back to Beauxbatons and then returning to New York to see an exhibition of a new artist she thought she might be interested in representing. She confirmed her invitation for the holidays with Severus.

"Please, Sevvie, you mustn't worry about putting me out. I've made arrangements to house sit and the place has more than enough room for all of us and Alex's pal, Geoffy. Besides, I know that Throcky is dying to meet you."

She stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. "I'm giving you two the large bedroom so that you can spell it for all the silence you want." And she winked at him.

Big bloody deal, thought Severus.

They were alone in the house when they got back, he and Eirik.

Eirik immediately disappeared into his studio and Severus found that he felt an overwhelming urge to pout.

He looked out at the view, walked about the living room, picking up one thing or another. He examined the portrait that Eirik had hung of Alexander and Rhodri. Luc would be very pleased with it, unhappy that she couldn't sell it. Eirik intended giving it to Alexander for Solstice.

He sighed. Sat down. Stood up.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" he shouted at the walls and went charging out of the house, stomping down the path, muttering curses, then barged into the studio where Eirik was sitting on a table, calmly watching the door.

"I've had enough!" shouted Severus. "Enough! All right, I acted like an idiot. I will admit it to whomever you want. I will yell it from the top of the hill. I will write to the Daily Prophet and have them print it in their letters page. Will that do?"

"Depends," said Eirik, in that irritating, unruffled tone. "What do you expect me to do in return?"

"How about fucking me for starters!"

Eirik cocked his head. He looked as though he was thinking about that and it was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back.

"Oh, bloody hell!" And Severus grabbed Eirik's head and took possession of his mouth. Roughly. In a most determined fashion.

And as his mouth was busy with Eirik's, his hands were tearing away at his lover's clothes. Then at his. And then there were two sets of hands, not just his.

When they were naked, he pulled back, snapped his fingers and then dug them into the jar of unguent that had appeared. His angry glare daring his lover to say anything, he quickly greased Eirik's appreciative cock and then, kicking his lowered trousers and boots out of the way, used the surplus to grease his own arsehole.

"Move up!" he snarled. And when he found Eirik wasn't moving fast enough to suit him, Severus encouraged him with the palm of his hand against his hip. Hard. Eirik moved a lot faster then. Severus joined him on the table. He grabbed Eirik's cock and gave it a few careful strokes, bringing him to an even harder state. Then, eyes angry, mouth sneering, he straddled his prone lover who was watching him with yellow eyes blazing as he aligned cock to arsehole and sat firmly down.

He closed his eyes as he dealt with the flash of pain that was eased when Eirik shouted, his voice angry and concerned, "You bloody idiot, what the hell are you trying to do?"

Severus opened his eyes and enunciated very clearly. "I am trying to get laid. Do you mind? Now then, lie back and enjoy it," he snarled, "before I lose my temper."

Eirik's hands went to Severus's hips, helping him balance as he fucked himself on Eirik's cock.

"Arsehole," muttered Eirik, lovingly.

Severus looked down. "Yes, I am. Your arsehole, if you still want me."

"Forever."

Severus leaned over, supporting his weight on his hands, and kissed his man. "Eirik."

Eirik shoved his hips up, sighing as he did so. "Been so long."

"Well," snapped Severus, "whose bloody fault is that?"

Eirik grinned as he licked his lips. "Severus."

"Yes?"

"Shut up and bring me off."

Severus pushed himself back up and, smiling, rose slowly, gripping Eirik's cock with his internal muscles as he did. The moan that elicited was balm to his fears that he was no longer wanted by this beautiful, marvelous, irritating man. Severus braced his hands on Eirik's arms as he moved up and down.

They were both primed. Eirik came after only a few more of those strokes, and when Severus reached for his cock, his hand was slapped away and another took control. He shouted as he came.

With a gasp, he slowly collapsed forward and rested his head next to Eirik's. Eirik's hands held him, fingertips working into his back muscles. Severus took a deep breath and then sighed, relieved.

"Eirik."

"Hmm?"

"You smell right."

Eirik grew very still. "What?"

Severus smiled at the stunned tone. He turned his head and inhaled deeply again. "I finally understand what you mean when you say that to me because now you smell right to me."

Eirik said nothing. Severus wondered if maybe he had assumed too much. He raised his head.

Eirik was smiling at the ceiling.

One of the sappiest smiles Severus had ever seen on anyone's face.

He moved his head so that he could look into the yellow wolf eyes. "Eirik, are you all right?"

Eirik's grin grew even sappier, if that was at all possible. "Say that again."

Severus rested his weight on his elbows to either side of Eirik's chest and wriggled his arse: Eirik's cock, still in him, got a little harder. "If you want. Eirik, are you all right?"

"Not that!"

Severus was suddenly aware that he too was grinning. He wriggled his arse again. "Oh, you mean the smell part?"

"Yes," Eirik growled, "I mean the smell part."

Severus sat up, making certain that Eirik's cock was not going anywhere. He gave it a little squeeze and Eirik moaned.

"You smell right, Eirik."

Eirik's hands rose to caress Severus's chest. "Does that mean you love me too?"

Now serious, Severus nodded. "I do love you. I have for a while but I was afraid to say it."

Eirik's smile was gentle. "Yes, love, I know. And just in case you've forgotten because I know I haven't said it lately, I love you, too."

Severus leaned over again and took his time claiming Eirik's mouth. "You taste good, too."

Eirik's sappy smile was back. "Really? You know what this means, don't you?"

Severus shook his head.

"It means you have to make an honest man out of me."

That took Severus by surprise. He had to think a moment. "You want a Handfasting Ceremony?"

"Oh, yes, I want a Handfasting Ceremony. I want my ring on your finger. For my own sense of security."

"Are you certain? Eirik, I love you but...there is a side of me that seems...to fear happiness."

"I know." Eirik's hand caressed Severus's face: he leaned into the hand. "But it's all right. I have a better idea now on how to handle that side of you. And it's a fair trade. After all, you have to deal with Riky."

"I look forward to that," Severus promised.

Eirik's smile softened. "Severus. Much as I love you and you love me, there's a brush digging into my shoulder. And I think there's wet paint between my back and the tabletop. Not to mention your cum all over our chests. Do you think that maybe we could postpone the next round long enough to make it to the shower before we hit the bed?"

They planned the Handfasting Ceremony for the evening after the Winter Solstice. Oddvar Brekke insisted that they hold it in his house so that various family members and friends could be present.

Alexander arrived from Hogwarts with Rhodri and Geoff. The three of them would be going on to New York with Eirik and Severus after the Ceremony. It was the first time since first year that Severus had seen Geoffroi Kynan. The boy was thin, taller than Alexander, yet shorter than Rhodri who had yet again grown. He wore his long, black hair in a ponytail tied back with a black leather tong. It took Severus a day to conclude the boy had blue eyes behind those drooping eyelids. And a sense of humour that fit in well with Helga's boys.

He was thankful that it would be too dark for any kind of fly-over, the evening of the Ceremony.

The Ddus joined them later that afternoon. In return for taking Rhodri to New York, they were taking all three boys with them to Romania for a week at the end of the school year. The Reservists there were on the whole younger and Evan thought that since Rhodri was beginning to show some interest in the family `business', it might be a good thing to let him see for himself that not all Reserves were manned by elderly wizards and witches.

Luc arrived with Harry.

Severus caught Eirik watching them more carefully than he ever had.

"What?" he asked that night as they were soaking together in the tub off Eirik's room.

"Well, it's been eight months. I can't remember Luc keeping anyone around for more than three or four months. She's always claimed that she bores easily."

Severus pulled Eirik back against him, scooping handfuls of water to wet his shoulders and chest. And then Eirik's hand slipped around and they had other things to think about.

Still, the next morning, after breakfast, Severus managed to get a private word with Luc. Harry was his friend and the younger man had had too many losses in his life. He needed to know if Luc had passed this time limit of hers because she honestly cared for Harry or whether she was only feeling sorry for him.

"I know this is none of my business," he started.

Luc, the agent, grinned. In honour of the season, she was dressed in reds and greens and golds, colours repeated in her short hair. "Sevvie, whenever anyone begins with those words, it's a sure sign that it isn't. But because you're you, I'll listen. Is this about Riky?"

Severus shook his head. "No. Rest assured that I shall never interfere between you and Eirik. You two have strong enough personalities to handle whatever problem arises between you - should any do - without my getting involved. No, this has to do with Harry."

"Oh."

Severus was surprised to see Luc lose the agent to replace her with a woman who looked a little confused. "Luc, what's wrong?"

She sat on the steps where he'd stopped her and propped her elbows on her knees. Concerned at her behaviour, he sat next to her.

"I suppose that Eirik told you that I don't usually have relationships that last this long."

Severus nodded. He reached out and took one of her hands in his. She clasped his.

"I'm a good agent, Sevvie; I can fight anyone and anything for the artists I represent. But that means I'm not easy to live with."

"Strong people never are."

She nodded. "I tried once, you know. When I was much younger. We lasted less than a year. We loved each other at the beginning and loathed the sight of each other by the end. He'd been attracted to me because of my strength and then he hated me because I was strong. Because I was making a name for myself without his help. Without his input. He thought that I should listen to his advice and follow it." She sighed. "He was a decent artist, but he didn't understand that representing artists isn't the same thing."

"Have you always be drawn to artists?" Severus kept his voice sympathetic.

Luc shrugged. "You know how it is. I work in that world, I socialize in that world."

"But Harry isn't part of that world."

Luc sighed again. "No, he isn't. And he has a world of his own. I listen to him when he bitches about practice or some match. He listens to me when I bitch about gallery owners or artists too stupid to trust me. But I don't offer him advice on how to deal with his world and he doesn't offer me advice on how to deal with mine. It seems to be enough that we do listen to each other."

She passed her free hand through her short locks. "And we don't live in each other's pockets. He's based in Britain and I'm in New York. We see each other a lot and it's always nice to get together again." She leaned into Severus, in a comradely fashion. "And, yes I know I'm a lot older than he is. But he's far older than he really is. And he finds me fun and lovely. And he likes me as I am. And, Merlin!, Sevvie, is he ever sexy! Those eyes of his! He looks at me over the top of his glasses...in that certain way he has...and all I want to do is jump on his bones." She giggled. "And I do."

Then her mood changed to the serious. "Oh, Sevvie, I'm fucking in love with him and he'll break my heart when he's had enough of me!"

Severus put his arm around her. "Luciana, I know this is none of my business..."

Her giggle was rather watery.

"I can't speak for Harry, but looking at him with you, I think that Harry may feel as you do. I know I'm not one to talk, but I do have some advice to offer you. Speak to him. Ask him how he feels. He's probably as unsure about all this as you are."

She sniffed and accepted the handkerchief he offered her. "I take it this is the voice of experience I'm hearing?"

Severus smiled at her. "It took me some time and a few people had to hit me over the head, but yes, I recommend it."

Luc cocked her head, looking at him. "You're very sweet, Sevvie. Eirik is a lucky man to have found you."

Severus shook his head. "I was the one who was found, and, yes, I am lucky. I like you, Luciana Fortunata. And I'd like you to be as lucky as I have been."

Freya had insisted that he and Eirik spend their last night as bachelors in separate rooms. He'd thought the idea a little bizarre considering they'd been living together for almost a year. But, as usual, Freya was proved right.

He'd changed into a rarely used nightshirt when there was a soft knocking on his door. As though the knocker wasn't certain he was asleep and didn't want to wake him if he were

He opened the door to his son.

"May I come in?"

Severus smiled and gestured Alexander in. The boy was garbed in a nightshirt, his feet bare. Severus shook his head. "Get into the bed before your feet turn blue."

Alexander was more than pleased to comply. "I didn't realize just how cold the floors were."

Severus sat next to his son and slipped his hands under the covers to take the icy cold feet into his hands. He rubbed brusquely, grinning at Alexander's moans of pleasure.

"Papa."

"Yes, Alexander."

"Papa, I love you."

Severus stopped rubbing his son's feet. He looked into a pair of intense grey eyes and smiled. "I love you, too, Alexander. Very much."

Alexander wriggled his feet and Severus got the message: he began rubbing them again.

"I think this is a really good thing you and Onkel Eirik are doing."

Severus wondered if this was going to be another of those surprising conversations. He seemed to have had more than a few of them with this son of his.

"Yes, I think so, too."

"Onkel Eirik has always been my favourite uncle, you know."

Severus only nodded, wondering where this was going.

"I guess you could say that I love him. Not like I love you, but..."

Severus smiled. "But love nevertheless. It's all right, Alexander, I am beginning to understand more about love."

Alexander looked sheepish. "I know this isn't really important to you, but I would like to give you my permission and my blessing to marry him."

Severus stilled.

"I mean, after all, Onkel Eirik did ask me for permission to court you..."

"Alexander." He was surprised that he could speak without his voice breaking.

"Yes, papa?"

"Your..." He had to clear his voice and start again. "Your permission is very important to me. Your ble...blessing is all the more. Thank you, Alexander."

And he pulled his son into his arms and held him tightly. Alexander's arms were equally tight around his neck as he buried his face in the nook of Severus's shoulder.

Severus looked at his son who had eventually fallen asleep, his arms still wrapped around his father. The light from the fireplace flickered shadows about the room. Severus rested his cheek on his son's head and found himself reflecting on his life the moment this child had entered it.

A child who had loved him and had done so when he himself had found nothing to love in himself.

He shook his head, remembering how fearful he'd been when he and Inga had discussed Alexander's remaining at Hogwarts. He had initially refused, telling her that he had no love in him. That it didn't matter what Alexander was, werewolf or not, that he just didn't have it in himself to love.

All she had done was smile at him.

She'd said that Alexander was easy to love and somehow the child had found his way into a heart Severus would have sworn he didn't have.

How had she known?

And through Alexander he had found so many things. Things that he had never expected to find.

A home.

A family.

He almost laughed aloud: a huge family, with all that represented.

Friends who cared for him and whom he cared for.

Whoever would have thought that he would one day hear himself advising someone on their love life?

And more than that, that he would have a love life of his own on which to base that advice.

He had Eirik because of Alexander. He had a life because of Alexander.

Severus kissed his son's head.

He had hope in his life because this child had come into it.

He had been the one to pick this day for the Handfasting Ceremony. The evening after the Winter Solstice. Not just because it meant that so many could join them.

It was the night when the Dark was left behind and the Light began reclaiming its place.

And that was the life he was leaving behind. The Dark.

With Alexander and Eirik, Freya and Oddvar, Luc and Harry, the Ddus and all the Brekkes drawing him into the Light.

And somehow he knew, deep within himself, that, from now on, he was going to remain there, in the Light.

Oddvar was up early and working in his office. Holiday or not, Ceremony or not, he still had reports to read.

He was a little surprised when there was a soft knock at his door. He'd warned everyone the night before that he had work to do.

"Yes?"

The door opened and Eirik peered around. "I know you're busy but I need to show you something."

Oddvar pushed the report to one side. It amused him that this confident son of his sounded rather nervous.

"Having second thoughts?"

Eirik almost looked insulted but he shook his head as he dropped into a chair in front of Oddvar's desk.

"That's good. Then it means that you're doing the right thing."

Eirik grinned. "The voice of experience."

Oddvar sat back. "Actually, not really. The only time I didn't have second thoughts was when I married Gudrid."

"Papa, are you going to marry Freya?"

Oddvar shook his head. "I'm afraid it's more of will she marry me. She's determined to wait until my term as President is over. Then she wants me to court her."

Eirik laughed and Oddvar had to admit that, yes, the situation did have its funny side. But he did have reports that were calling to him.

"Is there something I can help you with, Eirik?"

Eirik sat up and pulled a small box out of his robe pocket. He handed it over to his father.

Oddvar opened it. It contained two wide bands.

"For the Ceremony?"

Eirik nodded.

"They're beautiful."

And they were. Of Eirik's design. Filigreed gold, patterned in wolf's paw prints with a gold serpent weaving its way in and out of the open spaces. The bands were wider than the norm, a good inch wide, perfect for slim, long-fingered hands.

Eirik leaned over, whispered a word, and the serpents rolled over, showing their bellies. On one of them, the words `You smell right' were engraved: on the other, `You taste right'. Another word and the serpents rolled back again.

Oddvar smiled. "Perfect. For both of you." He handed the box back to his son.

"No. I didn't want you just to see these. I want you to spell them. With the Clan spell."

Oddvar was moved. It was an old werewolf custom, to have the patriarch of the Clan offer a spell of good fortune at a Handfasting Ceremony. An even older one was to spell something the couple was going to use. Of all the Ceremonies of his children he had attended, it was only the second time this particular spell had been asked of him.

He took both bands out of the case and held them in one hand. With his eyes closed, he found the old spell that had once been used - rarely these days - in the Clan his forefathers had belonged to.

He felt the metal warm in his hands as he said the words in the old language and added a small one of his own, that these two men would know what it was to love each other until the end of their days.

With a smile, he put the bands back into their case and, rising, handed it to his son.

"Thank you, papa."

And Oddvar stepped around his desk to hold his son in his arms.

The Ceremony was a simple one.

Severus, dressed in his usual black, was accompanied by Alexander who wore his formal robe in Slytherin green. They stood to one side of the large fireplace in the Brekke living room, whose cheery flames reflected the feeling in the room. Opposite him, Eirik, in a new robe of his favourite teal, was accompanied by Oddvar wearing his formal President's robe.

"I, Eirik Brekke, do swear in front of these witnesses, of family and friends, to be true to you, Severus Snape, in dark times and in light, in sickness and in health; to respect you and hold you dear until the end of my days."

"I, Severus Snape, do swear in front of these witnesses, of family and friends, to be true to you, Eirik Brekke, in dark times and in light, in sickness and in health; to respect you and hold you dear until the end of my days."

Alexander handed Severus the band to put on Eirik's finger as Oddvar handed Eirik the one for Severus.

As Eirik slipped the band onto Severus's finger, he whispered, "You smell right, Severus."

Severus smiled. As he slipped the band onto Eirik's finger, he leaned over and whispered, "You taste right, too, Eirik."

And he leaned a little more so that he met Eirik's mouth as it came towards him.

Oddvar didn't wait for them to break apart. He turned to those in the room. "Ladies, gentlemen, Alexander and I would be honoured if you would raise your glasses."

Vigfus and Orm presented the two attendants with glasses of their own. Oddvar and Alexander raised them.

Oddvar Brekke smiled at the gathering. "Before I pronounce the Spell of Good Fortune upon these two who are setting off together on their journey through life, Alexander wishes to say something to all of us."

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Alexander, turning to the two men, his smile radiant, "I give you my parents, Severus and Eirik."


	9. A Gift of Light: Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

A Gift of Light: Epilogue

Minerva McGonagall repressed the urge to sigh loudly.

When Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore had been known for his succinct, often humourous speeches. Since becoming Minister for Magic, and with each successive graduating year, his speeches were growing longer, more convoluted and frankly bored the pants off not just her but pretty much all of the staff, the graduating class and their parents and guests.

She looked around the Hall, taking her last look of many of these studentsno -longer. On the whole, a good batch, she thought. The last of those who had experienced the Slytherin purge. Many of them already knew what they were going to be doing and where they were headed. A few would decide along the way. Fewer still might never know. Par for the course.

There was some restrained coughing from one of the staff. She looked around and found that Professor Sun was holding a delicate kerchief to his mouth. Over the material, his eyes met hers and smiled, promising much. Dear old Yat. Yes, there would be time for them once this day was over. She smiled, thinking of the rather expensive negligee she had purchased on a recent trip to Diagon Alley.

A sharp pain in her ankle brought her back to the Hall. Sinistra, sitting next to her, stifled a snicker and, like two dutiful students, they turned their attention to the droning speech.

There was some noise to one side. McGonagall directed her Headmistress glare onto it. The Media were certainly taking up a lot of space and not so quietly jousting for the best of it. Usually there was just the photographer from the Daily Prophet, but this year, due to the group sitting to one side of the front of the Hall, there were several international papers represented.

After all, it wasn't every day that the President of the International Federation of Warlocks attended a graduation at Hogwarts. And the fact that the school had been the one to educate his grandson had elicited a great many inquiries from the diplomatic community. Sitting next to the President and his new wife were the Ambassador of Russia and his wife (boy, third year, Ravenclaw), the Head of the International Trade Organization and her husband (boy, second year, Hufflepuff) and the Representative of the Imperial House of China (girl, first year, Slytherin).

They all knew, the Representative, the girl, Sun Yat-Sun and herself that the child was attending in hopes of finding out into which swamp Yat had tossed the former Minister for Magic, but then again, in not too great hurry as the present Minister was far more effective in the position than his predecessor had been.

Besides the added presence of the Media, there was an undetermined number of security people, many speaking softly into their sleeves. And she knew their presence was due not only to the dignitaries sitting in the front row, but also to the man in black who was sitting calmly in one of the back seats. Next to the man whose teal-coloured robe did nothing to distract from his rather stunning looks.

She had been rather stunned herself to find Severus Snape's name on the list of those accompanying the President. More so when the Auror in charge of the Minister's security and the President's Head of Security had met in her office to discuss plans and strategy, and no particular comments had been made.

She was aware that, in the last couple years, Severus had made a name for himself as an investigator into matters that concerned both potions and multi-national jurisdictions. The Daily Prophet, on the bottom corner of page two, had once deigned to mention that a Potions Master with a British background had played an important role in determining that if Mongolian yaks ate a certain spring flower - which bloomed apparently only every five years - it affected the taste, in a minor yet very important way, of fermented yak's milk - a drink to which the Goblins of Mongolia were partial - thereby avoiding a nasty situation with their counterparts in Northern China.

He looked well, she thought. That new shorter haircut didn't make him look any more handsome, but he looked...distinguished, less secretive. And, yes, content. He wasn't paying any attention to the speech but was watching The Unholy Three: Rhodri Ddu, Geoffroi Kynan, and Alexander Hillswick. Or as they were known in the school: Dragon, Vampire and Wolf.

She wondered if Snape knew that Hillswick had insisted his graduating papers list him as Alexander Snape-Hillswick. No, the boy was probably keeping that as a surprise. As it had probably been for the Minister for Magic, who personally signed all the official documents indicating that the graduates were now fully competent wizards and witches.

And she was thankful to Severus. Not only had he sent Sun Yat-Sun to them, but so far three very bright, very gifted young people were attending Hogwarts on his recommendation: an American and two Scandinavians. All three of them werewolves. Which was not a problem as the Sorting Hat automatically sent any of those - they had four attending from Hillswick - to Slytherin, where Yat saw to it that their Wolfsbane was prepared for them every full moon. He had trained his assistant, Pheo, in the making of the potion but still supervised its preparation as he worked on other potions or corrected assignments.

Minerva smiled as she spied Harry Potter in the audience, sitting with a rather...striking woman. Well, one wished to be diplomatic: she was dressed in Gryffindor colours, including her hair. She was looking around the Hall, leaning over and probably asking Harry about the banners because she was pointing to one. Older than Harry. By quite a few years. Minerva knew that Sirius Black was not pleased that the American was still in Harry's life: he thought her a bad influence. He had been very vocal about her involvement in Harry's leaving the National team to set up and coach a brand new Quidditch team in New York.

She wondered if Sirius had noticed that the woman was pregnant. She doubted it as she couldn't be that far along in her pregnancy. But her red and gold robe - decorated with lions playing Quidditch - was rather tailored and women tended to notice such things.

Harry grinned at something she said and she glared at him which made him grin even more. Not a good move, Harry, Minerva thought. And felt her judgement vindicated when the woman flicked the end of his nose and turned back to listen to Dumbledore. Harry leaned over and whispered something that had the woman blushing.

Good for him!

For a moment she thought that the loud snort she heard had come from her. But no, it was Sirius who had long minutes past reached his admittedly short tolerance level for what he called `idiots who love the sound of their own voices'. She noticed that Remus was glaring at him, with no great effect.

She was worried about those two: the snapping and the growls were growing louder and slightly more vicious between them. Lupin had asked for the first term off, and she hoped they could settle whatever problems existed between them. She would hate to lose either of them. Besides being a good professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts, Lupin was an excellent role model for the werewolves. Hooch had agreed to come out of retirement for one term to teach Flying and coach the Quidditch teams in Black's place.

Not that they were going to be able to replace Hillswick and Ddu easily on the school team.

"And so I know that Headmistress McGonagall, the staff and all of us wish you the best on this new adventure that you are off to pursue."

The polite applause from the audience was drowned out as the students stood up and, yelling, tossed their student caps into the air, never more to wear them. As the excited graduates hugged each other, many pulled out their new caps, no longer plain black cones but a variety of colours and shapes. Some even threw off their black Hogwarts robe to reveal personal choices.

She noticed the Unholy Three were now all wearing Slytherin green robes with silver decorations. She must make a point of going over to them and, under the guise of saying goodbye, confirm that these would be dragons, bats and wolves. She would miss these three, though school life would probably be a little calmer now that they were gone. Until their successors.

Minerva stood up in preparation of walking over to thank Dumbledore for taking the time out of his busy schedule to attend this year's graduation. She had been told he would be leaving immediately as he was required elsewhere. She had noted that the President and his ensemble had indicated that they would be remaining for an hour after the ceremony.

She was pleased they were. She doubted she would ever again have the opportunity to thank Severus in person for what he'd done and was doing for Hogwarts. Over the last few years there had sprung up a rather wary correspondence between them, usually concerning the students he had recommended, but she wanted to share a few of Hillswick's adventures with him now that the boy had safely graduated.

Besides, Hillswick had been a favourite with many of the staff and, as a parent, Severus would enjoy hearing their comments on his son. And some of the older staff, Sinistra and Sprout in particular, had indicated several times that they would have liked to say a proper goodbye to their old colleague. Now they could do so without worrying about the Minister's reaction.

With a cool smile plastered on her face, she walked over to Albus Dumbledore. "Minister, another inspiring speech..."

La Fin


End file.
